


Gold

by BrahmsyLove



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bisexuality, Botany, British Characters, Childhood Trauma, Classical Music, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Porn, England (Country), F/M, Female Protagonist, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Ghosts, LGBTQ Character, Love Triangles, M/M, Multi, OT3, Piano, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Prequel, Sequel, Sexual Inexperience, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Strong Female Characters, Threesome - F/M/M, Unconventional Relationship, United Kingdom, Wealth, Welsh Character, YouPorn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-22 00:45:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 81,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13752687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrahmsyLove/pseuds/BrahmsyLove
Summary: This is a story about Benjamin Greenwood and Brahms Heelshire who both share similar, and quite traumatic, pasts.  Their kindred bond is formed early when each of their worlds is destroyed and they are forced to navigate through their new lives with only themselves to lean on.  They face rather unconventional challenges as they move into early adulthood, fumbling through new relationships borne not just from each other, but from the unsated force of nature who yearns to set all of them free.  The struggle is learning that breaking away from the bondage of their personal demons may one day lead to the freedom that ties all three of them together.





	1. Refuge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AppleSpice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleSpice/gifts), [hotcoffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotcoffee/gifts).



> Thank you for your kudos! I really live for them and for you awesome readers!💟

"Nature’s first green is gold,  
Her hardest hue to hold.  
Her early leaf’s a flower;  
But only so an hour.  
Then leaf subsides to leaf.  
So Eden sank to grief,  
So dawn goes down to day.  
Nothing gold can stay."

_Robert Frost, **Nothing Gold Can Stay**_

 

“Do not push the river; it will flow by itself.”

_Polish Proverb_

 

* * *

 

Benjamin sat on the edge of the old, wooden park bench swinging his small feet in scissor fashion. His delicate hands anchored his body to the edge while he observed the world around him for anything interesting that could catch his eye.

The plastic ends of his laces tapped in rhythm against each shoe.  An untied stray  swung out farther and farther with each swing, flailing, as if undecided on whether to return to its secured family of shoelaces or to fly away, an orphan bound for freedom.  The boy’s short trouser legs crept up higher with every kick as his white socks slid down further, revealing more of his small ankles. 

The corner of his eye finally caught sight of a single, golden leaf on the ground and his legs immediately stilled. The slight wind around him didn't seem to disturb the stray leaf that had fallen from its secure home, the single spot on a branch now only a speck high above. The leaf held itself firmly at its new home on the ground, marking its territory for that single moment, determined to secure a temporary resting spot.

The boy’s eyes widened as he stared intently at this new discovery.  He leaned forward from the bench to inspect the gold leaf, fascinated by the intricate lines traveling within like brown veins, marbling into it and bleeding new color out, creating a bruised, yellow hue. 

Benjamin’s slender fingers curled underneath the bench seat as he peered down to get a closer look, afraid to disturb the leaf, afraid to disturb its delicate beauty.  Scared that picking it up and touching it would somehow taint its uniqueness and marr its elegance, he decided then that the leaf would be preserved just as it was.  He believed that it deserved its own special place in the world, after all. 

*** 

The autumn wind blew across his flushed cheeks and through his soft, brown hair.  Benjamin continued to steady himself and watch the leaf begin to blow away, slowly at first, then as if letting go, flying up in the air. His wide eyes followed its determined, new path towards freedom.

He leaned back next to his mother who had been sitting like a fidgeting statue the entire time.  She was anxiously watching his father who was standing across the wide sidewalk that divided them and the large river he stood next to, staring, mesmerized.  A metal railing in front of him overlooked the water, stretching several miles on each side.  He gazed desperately down each length of the river as if somehow, by defying physics, he could find his much needed answers at the end, his limited vantage point absorbing them from the horizon. 

He turned around then, his face colorless, his expression reflecting the fear and apprehension that Benjamin’s mother’s felt. The father’s heartbeat quickened with each thought that raced through his mind, a sickening reminder of the enormous consequences of a single decision that began as a seed only a few months earlier. 

*** 

He approached his family; his lean legs barely carrying all the weight that was resting on his shoulders.  His conscience was overblown with remorse and guilt, the torture in his mind close to unbearable.

What had he done to his wife and only son?  How could he compromise their safety and force them into danger, even possible death?  Little Benjamin had no choice, no chance to protest, to offer reason, an opinion, or even a different, logical point of view that no one could help them with now.

His father stood now with arms hanging at his side, gazing down at the only woman that he had ever loved in his entire life.  His thoughts flashed back to when they had first met, how both of their families immediately wanted them to marry, how right his life felt with her and how complete their small circle became when God had gifted them with their only child just six years earlier. He would never understand what he could have done to be blessed with such fortune.  It had been a miracle to have such a beautiful life together, with love and comfort that were boundless from each of their families.  His life was full and everyday he thanked God for it; he knew that he would never be able to thank God enough.  He would spend his life searching for that end, to satiate the need once and for all and justify his gratitude.

He spoke in Polish to his wife, telling her that he did not know when their contact would come for them, that they had been waiting three hours already and there was nothing that he could do now.  His wife argued that they were unsafe here, that Benjamin was in danger and this wait was not worth the sacrifice that they were making. 

They went back and forth for several minutes, each of them in a separate debate on what was best for them all and if little Benjamin was better off in safer hands without them being a dangerous liability to their son and his well-being.  On it went until the air became colder and Benjamin’s mother quieted long enough to find his only coat and bundle him into it. 

*** 

The boy sat quietly looking sometimes at his parents and when it became too confusing and uncomfortable, stared instead at the large tree above him.  He wondered if the fallen leaf that he would never see again was born on one of the almost bare branches.  He sat as still as he could and tried his best not to make a sound while his parents’ voices became louder.  He shivered in his favorite coat, content that his mother packed it after he was asked which one he wanted to keep with him and which ones could be left behind forever.

He didn't understand fully why they were going on a “long trip” and why they were not returning home.  All he managed to comprehend was that they were going someplace better and that he would like it.  He trusted his parents and believed that they always knew what they were doing.  They were grownups and knew everything, after all.  He would be safe as long as they were near and would always protect him. 

He was glad that he wasn't an adult and confused all of the time with responsibilities.  It seemed to him that’s all that adults seemed to be and to have which made him believe that life for them was always boring and complicated.  It didn't bother him much as long as he was allowed to play and be free, even though his quiet habits and preference for solitude made him different from other children.  He loved his parents very much for letting him be who he was and explore things that his curious mind constantly demanded answers to. 

*** 

The two brown suitcases next to his mother's feet held all the important belongings that his parents could manage to leave their home with.  After a lifetime of living under Communist tyranny, they were forced to follow rules to protect them from the government; they were now rendered a choice to live under a government that could protect them from everyone else. 

There was always a possibility to flee their harsh existence, but the consequences were too many and the means for a safe break too limited. Their chance to leave came through an acquaintance of the father’s.  The mother and father were both told that this escape plan would be the safest way for them to leave as a family of refugees without any suspicion from the government authorities.  The parents measured the alternatives for as long as they could and chose an option that would bear the least amount of weight on their son. 

*** 

Benjamin held his parents’ hands as he strolled between them.  He turned his head to observe the ripples in the large river gliding along with them as his parents talked quietly above him. Their voices were soothing to his ears and he loved being able to walk like this with them.  He remembered how they would sometimes lift him up with both of their arms and swing him while they walked.  He knew that today was not of those times.  He accepted this and understood that perhaps now they just needed to be serious adults.  They, after all, knew everything. 

*** 

Benjamin and his parents walked several miles, a suitcase in one hand and their son’s hand in the other.  One would sometimes hold Benjamin while the other carried both suitcases. The stress on their adult minds prevented them from feeling the pain in their feet. 

They had long since left the park and were trying to navigate through unfamiliar streets.  The air turned windy and cold and darkness surrounded them; the tall trees leaned down, their branches encasing the figures below with long, hard claws. The moon cast its bright light down through the thin, bare branches. Benjamin’s mother stopped often to adjust his short coat and make sure that the hood covered his ears and forehead completely.  He could feel his hands sweating inside his mittens.  He wasn’t used to having this much exercise and he was starting to wonder when they would stop their long journey.

They came at last to a point on the path that was guarded with uniformed men holding rifles.  Tall posts high above them beamed harsh light everywhere spotlighting the forbidden territory ahead.  Benjamin’s parents began to walk with apprehension towards the area.  A security guard manning a wooden station was talking to two other armed guards, one of whom had crushed a spent cigarette on the ground with his tall, black boot.  They all turned now towards the three figures slowly moving closer from the darkness.

The parents’ voices became rushed and nervous and they began talking over each other.  The father at last pulled out a small stack of folded papers from his lapel pocket, having protected them for many months for this very moment and he hurried towards the guards, anxious to present his legitimacy.  He approached one and began to speak Polish to him.  He held out the papers explaining their promised immunity from the consequences of being caught escaping from their country.  The guard ruffled through the unfolded pages with his black, leather gloves and inspected them for several moments before turning towards his comrades.

Benjamin was intently watching the situation from far away, still half in the shadows and shielded behind his mother’s body having no idea what was taking place before him.  He was worried about his father who looked scared and alone talking to the strange people.  He wanted him to return back to him and his mother who was now kneeled down next to him, holding him in a tight grip.

The guards began to speak in raised voices, similar to what Benjamin had heard from his parents.  The conversation between the guard that took his father’s paper and the one who had crushed a cigarette earlier became louder until it finally turned into yelling.  They both seemed to be at odds with each other.  When the security guard left his station to join the commotion, Benjamin’s father began to approach them all.  In an instant, a rifle fired and all the boy could see was his mother running towards his father as he crumpled to the ground.  Another shot came and this time his mother fell, too.  The three guards stood above the bodies, one pulling his rifle back down to his side.  He walked to Benjamin who was now alone and huddled in a ball on the ground, his small arms desperately trying to shield him from the loud noise and terror.


	2. Upper Crust

“We cast a shadow on something wherever we stand, and it is no good moving from place to place to save things; because the shadow always follows. Choose a place where you won’t do harm - yes, choose a place where you won’t do very much harm, and stand in it for all you are worth, facing the sunshine.”

 _E.M. Forster,_ **_A Room With A View_ **

 

* * *

 

The soft field of yellow wheat blew gently with the wind as Benjamin sat on it, enchanted with his cat.

“You're such a good, little kitty, aren't you, Marmalade?”

He squealed delightfully.  

“I promise to make sure that there is enough Yorkshire Pudding for you today.  It’s your favourite!”

The tangerine cat walked around and around Benjamin, purring and swishing its long tail, welcoming the small, delicate fingers on its fur.

“I promised to be good today for The Greenwoods and I’ll be good to you, too.”

Benjamin’s refuge now was to escape to magical worlds.  He found a way to build elaborate fantasies that were far away from his present reality.  With no true family other than his adoptive parents, he found his treasure in his two best friends; his beloved Marmalade and seven-year-old Brahms, the son of The Heelshires.  

Though The Heelshires rarely brought their shy, young Brahms to large gatherings with any adults present, they did allow the rare luxury of indulging the boys with each other’s company in more private settings.  Today was another exception.  Benjamin was able to share his first birthday without his real parents in the warm company of his close and only real friend.

Because of the wealth that most of the well-to-do families shared, it was common practice to acquire children as early and as often as possible.  After all, a life itself was worth far more than artificial material possessions and in time, would grow exponentially in value, ensuring that the family name be carried on.  Youth was a rarity in their parts; most of the offspring from the families were grown with children of their own.  The Greenwoods had only their wealth and name to show their important worth.   They were more unfortunate, as they lacked youth and any extended families.  They did, however, have the means by which to make up for it.

The means by which they acquired their son was not known and his adoption was not entirely respected.  He wasn’t a flesh and blood Greenwood, but the boy filled the lifelong gap of theirs from not having a son of their own.  They waited a long time to find him and the circumstances were most ideal.  Convenience was not a word often used in their vocabulary, as one had to work for his proper place in the world.  Their dire situation, however, allowed them this exception.  Benjamin, indeed, had rescued them out of their misfortune.

It was also never made clear how Brahms’s elderly parents came to bear their child, who at seven years old, seemed more of a grandchild than a son.  There was talk, of course among the families that he was adopted, just as Benjamin was, but The Heelshires did not dare speak to it.  Nor would they go into detail over how he even came to be born.  His actual day of birth seemed a quiet, uneventful mystery, though to The Heelshires, they had answers enough to keep themselves satisfied and in good enough standing among the others.  

It was a wonder that the boys from each of the two families were in each other lives at all. Their haunting similarities drew them close.  Despite, and perhaps because of their shared misfortunes, they both shared the closest semblance to a childhood that they could have when they were alone together.  Their kindred spirit hood bound them together stronger than the facade that had a stranglehold over each of their upper class families.  Their souls unknowingly found solace in one another and an unspoken bond which required very little words held them together like an eternal glue.  Each boy adored the company of his only friend, the only one with whom he felt safe and comfortable.  Each was the closest thing to a brother that he would ever have.  They cherished their time together and relished the fact that they both enjoyed most all of the same things.  There seemed to be a rhythm in their trains of thought and where one had a question forming in his mind, the other would answer it; the magic that they shared seemed unbeknownst to either of them.

***

_“Benjamin!”_

The boy stood and brushed off his dark trousers, trying to comb his hair with his fingers and make himself presentable.  Today was a special day for his parents and he knew that had to look his absolute best.  He always looked his best, he thought; at least he always made sure to.  Today was certainly no exception.  He was, after all, turning seven and The Greenwoods went out of their way to make a big party for the occasion.

He ran towards the house as Marmalade sat pondering whether or not to follow and leave behind the warm sunshine.

_“Benjamin!  Your shoes!  You simply must take care not to ruin them!  What kind of gentlemen presents himself to his guests with muddy feet?”_

Mrs. Greenwood continued to scold the boy as Mr. Greenwood walked slowly over.

“Shall we have the hors d'oeuvres brought out, then, Mummy?  We’ve not much time before our guests arrive.”  

She addressed him without turning from Benjamin and continued adjusting his tie.

“Yes, Daddy.  Please have them bring them out and make _sure_ the foie gras is edible.  Last time it was a spectacle and I cannot afford to fire anymore help in this house.  And please fetch someone to clean up Benjamin and his shoes before he makes a spectacle out of us all, too.”

“Yes, Mummy.”

He turned his attention to Benjamin.

“My boy, your young friend has arrived. You may see him in the sitting room when you are presentable.”

Mr. Greenwood sauntered his way back into the rest of the large mansion in search of relief.

***

“Come here, love, and let us make you a _presentable_ birthday boy.”

The young woman discreetly rolled her eyes and hid a mimicking smirk as she patronized the laughable word.  She only hoped that providing loving gestures and physical touch that the son had for so long been denied would at least fill in the empty spaces that had so easily been left open.

“The Greenwoods have gone to great lengths to have this party.  You know how they fuss over their only child when others are here.  You mustn't disobey them, all right, my darling?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

After she finished wiping his shoes to their original shine, Benjamin smiled down at her, revealing a missing front tooth. He gloated and felt pride that someone thought so much of him.  She was the only one who seemed to prize him over the other possessions that his adoptive parents so highly regarded.

She continued to kneel in front of him, smiling as she cupped his face with her hands while pausing to gently stroke his soft hair and look Benjamin in his eyes.

“Darling, please, be good to little Emily Cribbs.  You know that your gorgeous smile will only give her more fodder to tease you this afternoon.”

Benjamin scowled at the mention of his nemesis.  She was the answer to the second set of prayers for the families and the promise of future children, future _grandchildren_ , lay sparkling like a green emerald in their vision.

***

An old lady of obvious riches sat talking with another well-to-do guest, holding her porcelain tea and saucer as she balanced herself with utmost sophistication on the edge of her embroidered armchair.  Most everything in the large sitting room was adorned with expensive fabrics; the antiquated silk and wool tapestry on the lacquered walls conveyed the atmosphere of an 18th century castle.  The mansion itself held enough history as the secrets inside it.

“I don’t know how on earth she plans on carrying out their dying English name with that peculiar child.  It’s tragic that the boy is so needy and lacks pedigree.  A Greenwood. _Polish.”_

The old lady paused before quietly rolling the last word off her tongue as if trying to hide the taste of something awful in her mouth.  

“It’s doubtful that he will ever provide them with what they deserve... _after what he’s put them through.”_

An elderly male entered the large room, carrying a china dish with fancy vittles of food.  He balanced his tiny, delicate fork on the plate and extended his hand to Benjamin who stood before him, a shy look on his face, embarrassed to smile for fear of showing his imperfect teeth to everyone.

_“Here’s the birthday boy!”_

He shook the gentlemen’s hand as The Greenwoods had taught him and addressed him as a refined Englishman should.

“Good Afternoon, Sir.  How kind of you to come to my birthday party.”

“My dear, boy.  The pleasure is mine.  I do hope that you enjoy your gifts.  Mrs. Heelshire and I haven't forgotten how much you cherish botany.  Do you know about the rarity of our country’s golden Starved wood-sedge?”

Benjamin answered in his quiet voice with the most confidence that he could muster despite the insecurity that overwhelmed him.

“I do, Sir.  The Carex depauperata was placed on the Endangered list in 1981.”

The boy tried to hide his grimace as he realized that the man was probably toying with him, trying to extrapolate justified knowledge from him and ensuring that his expensive anthology adorned with beautiful photographs would be worth the price and effort it took to buy it.  At least the party guests would be impressed at the old man’s scholarly gift choice.

_“Benjamin, there you are!”_

Mrs. Greenwood entered the room, her wrinkled hands in the air, clearly enjoying the fuss that she was making over the only heir left in her family.  The rest of the old guests sat with pursed lips, some of their minds recording the spectacle for later conversations.

“My darling, it’s time to open your presents!  Let’s hurry so as not to keep our lovely guests waiting!”

Benjamin followed Mrs. Greenwood into the old parlor that was filled with expensive gifts that he knew were more for the guests than for him.  He had lost hope of ever receiving anything that he actually wanted, which wasn't very much.  He stopped asking for his mother and father back when he was first adopted, having no idea that the old couple would now serve as their replacement, a gift that they would never play down.

***

The adults had all left the house and The Heelshires and Greenwoods were left alone to savor fresh gossip over leftovers.  Mrs. Greenwood used the platform to try and chip away at The Cribbs family’s reputation.  She was well aware that Emily Cribbs was the last hope that her son had at carrying out the family name.  She was also quite willing to preserve that chance in any means necessary, even if it meant tarnishing the child’s family just enough to keep away the threat of Benjamin’s seven-year-old friend.  Chances didn't come by accident and she would manipulate her way to making sure that only her son had his golden opportunity later in life.  

***

The late afternoon sun painted a golden hue on the wheat fields outside and cast its gentle light on the boys.  Benjamin’s light brown hair blew softly in the quiet breeze.  He was intently reading from one of his books about the grass that they were both sitting on.  Brahms brushed a small strand of hair to the side of his forehead as he began to create a makeshift sculpture out of the long golden grass. Each was content in his own world and little conversation was made between the two in his quiet ruminations. Marmalade hunched down by Benjamin's feet, intently scooping up leftovers, his whiskers moving with each savory bite.

“I just knew you'd like the anchovies, Marmalade. I even brought you some scones and clotted cream.  They’re my favourite.  I’m sorry about the pudding.  Old Mrs. Andrewson ate it all.  She eats everything when she’s here.”

Brahms snickered next to him as he sat playing in the grass. Benjamin scowled his face in agreement as he crouched with the cat, petting him as it ate while talking softly to his second best friend.  

“Brahms, do you suppose that we’ll end up like our parents?”

The boy shook his head in sudden protest at the thought, making a face as he openly shared his worst fear.

“I shall never, ever turn out like them.  You and I will run away together and have nannies that will love us forever.”

Brahms’s green eyes lit up in his own joyful thought and Benjamin laughed loudly at their shared wish.

“I should like very much for that to happen, as well,” he agreed.  

The two boys more than knew that their fates lay sealed at the mercy of their families and that the trap within that very real world would be harder to escape than any of their imaginations.

“Whatever happens, I’ll never leave you, Brahms.  I won't ever let them keep us apart.  I don't care what The Greenwoods say.  You're not a bastard.”

Brahms’s head shot up immediately.

“What’s a bah-stard?” he asked, putting emphasis on each syllable.

“It’s when you haven't a real father,” Benjamin quietly offered as he continued lowering his head in slow shame at his insensitive utterance.

“I know that that’s not true of you.  You know how stupid grown up people are, Brahms.  Everything that they say is for their own good and they make up whatever they like to look good in front of each other.”

He paused and was silent for a moment before continuing.

“I despise my adoptive parents,” he muttered underneath his breath.  

“I only had one _real_ mother and father and they’re gone forever.”

His face fell and his shoulders drooped as the book that he was holding fell off his lap.  

Brahms picked it up and placed it back into his friend's hands.  

“They’re still with us and they’re very much alive,” he said as he pointed to the book.  

“If you want them here, believe in it, just as you believe in your stories and your plants.”

Benjamin looked up in confusion, his mouth in an open smirk.

“What are you _talking_ about?”

“You don't have to go anywhere to leave where you are.  I do it all the time.  If I’m not happy about something I concentrate very hard and all at once I’m somewhere else, but I haven't really left.”

Benjamin pondered the new information as he gazed across the fields.  The sun was setting over the golden horizon and he knew that it would be time for bed soon.  He could then escape under the bed covers into the worlds that were hidden in his new books, believing this time that he could in fact leave, even if only in his mind.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is. The beginnings of a very important friendship. I'm absolutely in love with these two boys and wish that I could squeeze them and shower them with kisses. I want them to drive the story as I write but I still need some help to make their characters as strong as possible. I honestly don't know who is going to be the hero/protagonist. Can there be two of each? How can I pick just one?
> 
> I really, really appreciate feedback.
> 
> Thank you so much!


	3. Boys Don't Cry

Shiny birthday toys lay scattered with a small layer of dust in Benjamin’s play room. His bed seemed to be the only spot with the most activity and was surrounded by books that lay on the floor or were stacked unevenly on his nightstand. He had even categorized a few of the piles. There were his treasured botany books with large color photographs and diagrams of many of his favorite plants and the classic works of fiction that went as far back as the literature that his mother and father had read as children and to him as a young boy.

Benjamin had his favorites. There was of course, The Tale of Peter Rabbit, The Wizard of Oz, Treasure Island, and anything with Huckleberry Finn. He read his stories every night, including his beloved fables and fairy tales. He felt drawn to Hansel and Gretel and secretly wished that he could venture through forests never to return home. He spent the entire afternoon in his room fantasizing about living in each of those worlds with his parents, his real parents, as he always emphasised to himself and to Brahms. He quickly realized that the moonlight coming in through the window was signaling his important rendezvous.

***

He sat with his knees to his chest leaning on the cold, hard concrete of the manor’s rooftop terrace. He stared out among the tall trees on the horizon peering upward to the dark sky, the bright stars gleaming in his eyes. Straight ahead and underneath a familiar cluster of stars was The Heelshire manor. Only the faint glow of light from the mansion could be seen in the dark, the yellow hue blending upwards with the milky stars surrounding it. Though separated by tree tops and lush forest, the two points of light on both ends of the forest served as beacons for the two boys reminding them that they were each there.

Benjamin sat waiting for his signal. Brahms had skillfully taught him morse code and with torchlights on each of their rooftops, the boys could communicate together. They set certain times of the night to “talk”, away from any adults and from the walls of their mansions. The night was filled with stars and Benjamin particularly liked the extra challenge of deciphering the morse code from the other flickering lights.

It wasn't always easy to communicate long conversations in this medium, so they often planned a rendezvous when they could sneak to one another’s house on foot. The privacy of the forest and lack of open roads made their journey a secret and dubious adventure that made them feel that they had a world all their own and more importantly that it was a real one that no one could find.

The cool breeze was blowing high up on the mansion’s rooftop. Sometimes Benjamin brought his stories up here and felt more connected to them without the distractions of adults and all of their grown up nonsense.

Lately, they had been talking about Brahms’s upcoming eighth birthday and how mundane and boring it would be with no children present. Other than Benjamin, there was only Emily Cribbs whom both boys disliked profusely. That each of the boy’s parents were planning future heirs for their sons was unbeknownst to them. The ancient tradition didn't phase either one and even a likeable girl wouldn't have made a difference to them.

Tonight Brahms was expressing his rather colorful thoughts on the unwelcome guest through the limited means of morse vocabulary. Benjamin had to quietly stifle his laughter with one hand, imagining his friend actually speaking the explicit words, so out of his shy, reserved character. Both talked for as long as they could before their hands became too numb to press the torchlight. Long sentences were reduced to short ones and before long simply became single words, spelling out their coldness and fatigue.

***

As Benjamin sat cross legged in his room, he watched patiently as the young girl helped him wrap the present that he painstakingly picked out for Brahms. They sat together on the floor with scraps of birthday wrapping paper adorned with pictures of sailboats and anchors. Small pieces of balled up tape lay half stuck on the dusty, wooden floor around them as Benjamin waited with fresh strips to hand over to her.

“Darling, I believe that Brahmsy will simply _adore_ his new paint set. You did such a marvelous job picking out something that he is going to really enjoy! He is so lucky to have a best friend like you.”

Benjamin’s smile beamed as big as the room.

“Thank you, kindly. I’m very much obliged.”

He felt much pride hearing the compliment because he did indeed spend some time researching his choice. He had a hard time deciding between molding clay and various other handicrafts. Even ordinary paints would not have been good enough for his friend; Brahms already had great talent and could create most anything with his hands. He settled on expensive paints and a large pad on which Brahms could create his art, knowing that his work would be appreciated for much longer than a simple piece of clay.

They two finished wrapping up the beautiful present. Benjamin held it, enjoying the size of the box covered now with the smooth, glossy paper. He felt content that the weight of its contents was formidable enough to hopefully make a good impression on his best friend. He wanted so much for Brahms to be able to enjoy his long moments alone well after his birthday; a reality that he himself was familiar with. Those empty spaces of solitude became necessary to fill with precious forms of escape where time no longer mattered.

***

_“Nooo noooo!”_

Brahms squealed with laughter as he held his new paint brush dripping with globs of different colors. His hands were smeared with bright paint and he was trying his best to keep any from reaching his rolled up trousers. He sat cross-legged with bare feet, his best friend next to him in the grass. Several rocks and boulders stood on a soft bed of evergreen pine; the half circle providing an entrance to the forest that surrounded them. Their two small suit jackets lay draped on a large boulder away from the rogue art class the two were enjoying together.

“Yes, _Braah-msy_!”

Benjamin emphasized the last word and squealed louder when he saw the grimace form on Brahms’s face, which was now speckled with paint.

“Only one person calls me that!”

“Of course, she does, _Braah-msy_!”

Benjamin continued to squeal in delight and fell backwards into the grass, his bare feet flying over his head, his trouser bottoms sliding up to his knees in mid air. His painted hands grabbed his sides and he giggled uncontrollably; Brahms sat staring with a serious look on his face. He fought the small grin that slowly started to peer its way through and before long he crawled over to tackle his best friend. The two howled in laughter knocking over paint on the green grass and drenching it; shiny, red blades stuck up everywhere as they continued to wrestle.

_“What have we here?”_

The boys’ heads shot up at the same time and turned towards the young, female voice above them. Emily Cribbs stood, her arms at her sides and a forced look of defiance on her face. She smirked as she continued to stare at the two friends clearly enjoying themselves. It was a sight that she was never able to see in the company of adults. She realized that she had discovered a secret passage to a world unbeknownst to any on the outside and she felt jealousy and rage build as she looked them over.

“You two are nothing but sissies. Only _sissies_ play with paints. That is for _girls_.”

She glanced at Benjamin before continuing.

“And _you_. You are the worst sissy of _all_. You bought the paints in the first place. You two are made for each other. I’m going to tell your mummies and daddies what you are up to and what a mess you’re making!”

The boys were now both standing, faces smeared with paint and handprints; their bare feet streaked in red against the green grass all around them. Brahms’s hands were formed into fists and beside him Benjamin stood with a fierce look, his eyebrows furrowed.

“You will do nothing of the sort. You go and don't come back. You don't belong here. You're stupid and ugly and nobody likes you anyway!”

Brahms turned slowly towards his friend. He had never heard Benjamin’s voice change like that. He had never heard him angry. He was only ever upset when he spoke of his real parents and he knew that it was only ever to him, his trusted friend. He was shocked to see him display this kind of emotion to anyone else.

“You can’t make me, you sissy! You're a wimp and a coward! You can’t even fight because you’re not a real boy! You don’t even have real _parents_!”

Something shifted in Benjamin’s eyes and he became very still. His stare moved to the area of rocks near them. In a flash he was on them and hastily grabbed two as big as his palms. Brahms’s mouth opened as he watched Benjamin pick up one rock and aim it at Emily. The throw landed on her forehead and she stumbled backwards, her arms searching for balance as she fell against a large boulder, the back of her skull cracking on impact against the hard rock. The boys stood with a look of complete disbelief and shock on their faces.

“I..I..didn’t … mean to.”

Benjamin’s voice shook and his hands were trembling. He gripped the second rock, his palm sweating underneath it, his fingers turning white around its surface. He uttered the only other words that he could think of, hoping that something would provide an answer, and somehow rectify the horror in front of them.

“Is she...dead?”

Brahms couldn't answer and was in disbelief at how fast everything had happened. They stood staring at the lifeless body and watching for any movement. A commotion could be heard nearby with the sound of adults approaching quickly. As the voices closed in on them, Brahms impulsively grabbed the second rock from Benjamin’s tight grip and closed his small fingers around it.

_“What is going on here? What is all this commotion?”_

Mrs. Greenwood stopped in her tracks as she examined the scene before her. Everyone’s faces reflected the horror and confusion at Emily’s body lying against the large rock. Mrs. Cribbs ran screaming to her daughter, crouching down and trying to hold up her limp body in her arms. The girl lay like a ragdoll, her head falling backwards and her eyes staring lifelessly upward. The blood behind her head had pooled around the boulder’s hard, yellow surface and began to bleed red down the sides. The mother turned to the boys then, screaming in a deafening tone.

_“What happened to Emily?!”_

The boys’ mouths were hanging open and fear had drained the color from their faces.

_“Answer me!! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”_

The other adults surrounded her, leaning down to inspect the dead body, hoping that somehow it would move, that the child would stir slowly and wake up. Horror fell upon the tall figures, encircling them with its dark claws and soon the fresh realization of the death in front of them began to awaken their senses. Each cowering figure sprang to life at once and began to react in the only way that each knew how; one by one the motionless scene turned to one of action.

The adults all turned to the boys then, their eyes slowly drawn to the rock in Brahms’s hand. Mrs. Heelshire screamed in horror as Mr. Heelshire moved towards his son in a fast stride. He grabbed the rock out of his hand and faced him.

“Brahms!! _What have you done_? Did you hurt Emily? _Did you do this_?”

Brahms could only stare at his father, his face frozen in terror. He was unable to speak or comprehend fully what had just taken place.

“I...I don’t know, Father. She was being mean to Benjamin and we told her to stop! She wouldn't go away! We just wanted her to go away!”

Mr. Heelshire turned to Mrs. Heelshire.

“Call an ambulance!”

Mr. and Mrs. Cribbs wept loudly holding their daughter’s dead body. The bloody rock lay next to her and Mr. Cribbs picked it up as he looked at Brahms and then to The Heelshires.

“YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS! YOU KILLED HER! YOU KILLED OUR EMILY!! YOU ARE GOING TO BURN IN HELL!”

Mr. Heelshire gripped both edges of his suit jacket with his hands and pulled them down sharply before turning his pale face towards the crowd of adults.

“I...I’m going to call the authorities and an ambulance. Please…stay here until they arrive.”

Mrs. Heelshire grabbed her son’s arm and dragged him towards the house away from everyone. She leaned into him and whispered harshly into his ears.

“Brahms, go to your room straight away and don’t dare leave until we arrive.”

The boy’s knees were shaking as he tried to walk up the wide steps of the giant staircase to his room.  His hands had formed into small fists and his jaw was clenched.  He tried to swallow but couldn’t, his mouth too dry, his body sweating through his clothes.

He sat on his bed with his hands gripping the edge.  He was terrified of the punishment that he would receive.  He contemplated what kind of jail would accept children.  Would he die?  Would he be taken from his parents forever?  What will happen to Benjamin?  His mind raced on and on, his body stiff with fear.  It seemed an eternity that he sat with his thoughts, feeling more and more terror with each new one that flashed in his mind.


	4. Burning Rage

 

He couldn’t hear The Heelshires approaching his room and as they appeared at his door, the boy jumped. Mr. Heelshire walked towards the bed and stood towering over him. He spoke slowly and deliberately.

“Son, you need to come with us now. You must listen to us carefully. Do you understand?”

“Ye—es.”

The boy’s voice shook as he stared up at his father. He could barely speak through his dry mouth. A lump began to form in his throat and he wanted desperately to cry. He swallowed again knowing that was the last thing that he should do in front of his parents. There would be time for that later he hoped. The thought calmed him a little and he continued to stare up at his father.

Mr. Heelshire reached down for the boy’s wrist and pulled him off the bed. He led him out of the room passing Mrs. Heelshire in the threshold. He peered down the length of the hallway and turned towards her for a quiet confirmation. Using his free arm, he reached for a long, metal stick leaning against the wall. He picked it up and held it upwards towards the ceiling until its curved ring hooked onto a latch on a door. Slowly and quietly he pulled with the rod until a set of attic stairs began to descend towards them. He turned towards the boy and pulled his wrist upward.

“Son, I need you to go up there and stay there until we come and get you. You mustn't make any noise. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Father.”

The boy paused.

“Is this my punishment?”

Mr. Heelshire pulled him towards the stairs and nudged him to the first step.

“We will discuss your punishment later. If you are good, then we shall see. Now you must do as you are told.”

The boy was now halfway up the steps and turned slowly to look down at his parents.

“Mummy?”

Mrs. Heelshire covered her mouth with a shaking hand as she stared up at her son, her voice breaking.

“I’m...so sorry.”

She turned back towards his bedroom until the boy could no longer see her. He looked down at his father for any help, any hint of what was happening and why.

“That’s a good boy, Brahms. Remember what I said. Not a word.”

He stood at the top of the stairs watching his father slowly push the steps up towards the attic opening. He jumped back when they closed and became startled at the blackness that quickly surrounded him.

Brahms stood for several moments straining to hear his parents’ voices or for any sign of movement below. It was deathly quiet and he began to feel terror again, this time at his scary, new environment. He stood for several moments, straining to hear any noises around him. There were no sounds anywhere and he felt the darkness of the attic beginning to swallow him. He was terrified that at any moment something hidden would grab him from the blackness.

Brahms was never allowed to visit this part of the mansion and never even dared to try. It was one rule that he was happy to follow from his parents which gave him a sense of comfort knowing that they wanted to protect him from this strange and dangerous place. Now he was sure that his punishment was well-deserved if he was put here by his them. Defending his best friend was wrong, more wrong than him killing Emily, even if it was to protect the boys from her own vengeance.

A strong odor began to invade his senses. Brahms furrowed his brows as he started to smell the familiar stench of smoke. This wasn't a smoke that he recalled from a kitchen or anywhere else. It was different and stronger. His eyes started to burn and after a few seconds, he started coughing uncontrollably. From somewhere behind him he could hear a small popping sound. His muscles tensed from the sudden noise and his body fought back, trying to reserve the wasted energy and expel the deadly smoke from his lungs. Brahms strained as much as he could to hear the unfamiliar noise, trying to place what it was. He listened harder and the pops turned into a louder crackle. Though he couldn't see anything, he felt the air around him get thick and as he struggled to breathe, the taste of smoke permeated his skin and open membranes.

An orange hue of light began to flicker and spread throughout the large attic and he turned, eyes widening at the fire that was now dancing up to the rafters. The smoke was thick and black, making it hard to see, but the danger of his situation made Brahms react instinctively. His reflexes took over and he dropped to the floor. He remembered learning what to do in a fire if he was ever caught in one. Though he no longer had his jacket, he knew that he needed something to cover his mouth from the smoke. He removed his shirt and wrapped it around his head. He was prepared for the last and final step to roll his body on the ground if the fire ever reached him and he started to whimper at the terrible thought. Hearing his own cries scared him more and he realized how alone he was. His parents were nowhere to be found and he didn't know if they had put him here to burn as part of his full punishment.

He let himself wail, his shirt muffling the sounds. The heat of the fire filled every pore on his body and he was sweating through his trousers. His bare feet felt hot and he couldn't see how close the fire was to him. He curled himself into a ball, his coughing overtaking his breathing. His throat felt thick as if it is was closing itself off from any air. As petrified as Brahms was, he felt exhausted and wanted so badly to just go to sleep. The smoke felt like a lullaby, trapping him into a cage from where he knew he couldn't escape. It felt easier to give in, safer if he knew that was his only comfort.

An enormous bang jarred him awake and he peered out of his shirt to see what had happened. A giant, wooden beam landed next to his head, the tip of it roaring with flames. He jumped back with his hands as he sat staring wide-eyed, wondering what to do. He didn't know where else to move in the dark. The fire was still a few feet away and the flames flew towards him, the reflection in his scared, reddened eyes overcome by the large, orange light.

He jumped up, realizing the danger now and the quick movement made the fire shoot up higher, catching the right side of his face and burning his cheek. Brahms screamed in terror, his hand trying to stop the intense pain on his skin. He let go immediately when the flames jumped onto them and screamed louder, falling backwards and tripping on the ground and into the sleep that rescued him at last.


	5. Solace

“And so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

 _Scott Fitzgerald,_ **_The Great Gatsby_ **

 

* * *

 

Benjamin’s small hands were stained with dirt, his fingernails black from the soil deep underneath his nails.  He loved how the coolness of the moist ground felt on his skin.  He felt so connected with the earth and the longer that he spent in contact with it, the more the connection deepened to the wider space around him.  It made him feel as if a small part of him was a part of the earth, too.   

The intimacy didn't exist with anything not rooted to the ground. These were private moments for him that he couldn't feel with people.  He felt free to come to this place by himself and stay for as long as he needed to.  Though the pots of soil and the fresh plants were the means, the ultimate ends were to be close to the ground and in this place.

Benjamin had more time to spend outdoors without Brahms by his side.  He missed him more than he had ever missed anyone.  The death of his parents overshadowed most of the pleasure in his life, but the loss of his only friend was too much to bear.  It felt as if there was a special place for all the people that he had ever loved and he wasn't good enough to be a part of it.  He would rather be in that unknown place than in a space with people that he despised whom he knew despised him, too.  He didn't know why he had to be given such a punishment.  He wanted to know what he had to do to be with his beloved real family and with the only three people that had ever loved him back. He wished that he could be that special, too.

“Darling, your plants are growing _beautifully_.  It's such a short time since you’ve seeded them and look how high they’ve gotten.”

Benjamin turned his head towards the female voice voice and managed a small smile.  He lowered his head again and began to play with a glop of dirt next to his feet.  He was sitting cross-legged with gardening tools around him, a book on plants opened to a page that he was reading on how to cultivate a rare flowering plant.  He brushed a stray hair from his eyes with his arm, trying not to dirty his face with his hands.

She sat down next to him finding a grassy spot to make herself comfortable.  She spoke to the boy in a quiet voice.

“Sweetheart, I want you to look at the growth of your plants.  See how they’ve flourished from the love that you’ve given them.  You tended to them making sure that each received all the proper sunlight and fresh water.  You pruned them and talked to them…”

Benjamin blushed at her knowing the last embarrassing detail before she continued.

“...and it’s because of that love and attention that they’ve stayed alive and are just so lovely.”

She paused and stroked the side of his forehead, touching his soft hair and cupping his cheek.

“My darling love, if there was a way that I could mend your broken heart, I would.”

She brushed a tear on her cheek with her other hand, hoping that Benjamin wouldn't see her so weak.  She wanted to be strong for him and for him to know that she was strong enough to be there for him.  She knew that The Greenwoods didn't give a damn about the loss of his best friend.  It was a good riddance to them that he was gone and more importantly that the threat of someone taking away another chance at carrying their name was removed.  Emily Cribbs was gone, but she knew that there would be others.  Benjamin would just have to remain the only rival.

Her brows furrowed and she stopped herself from becoming enraged.  She saved those emotions for private when no one could see how she really felt about The Greenwoods.  Benjamin was the reason that she had any association with the people and she was determined to keep her position in the mansion for as long as she could.  Though she had no children of her own, she felt a calling that Benjamin needed her.  She wanted desperately to believe that his late parents would have wanted someone to protect their son and keep him safe from harm.  She would make it her mission to do just that.

Benjamin leaned against her then and allowed her to continue stroking his hair across his forehead.

“I wish that I could grow him back.  I know that sounds stupid, but I do.”

He paused and his body stiffened.  He wanted so much to continue, but was afraid to.  He mumbled the words that he promised himself that he would never speak.

“It’s _my_ fault that he’s not here.”

He held his breath for a moment waiting for her reaction.  She absorbed the weight of his words, feeling that they conveyed more than the guilt that survivors have.

“How do you mean?”

Benjamin didn't move a muscle and kept his eyes focused on the ground.

“I mean, it wasn’t Brahms who killed Emily.  It was me.”

“How do you mean, Benjamin?”

He sighed a long held breath and closed his eyes, allowing himself to tell her the story.   He didn't realize how much he needed to tell someone and there was no one in the world that he felt that he could trust but her.

“She intruded on Brahms and me when we were playing at his party and we told her to go away but she kept shouting insults at us and she was being _hateful_ , just _hateful_ .  I picked up a rock and hit her with it and I didnt mean to hurt her, I swear I didn't, but she fell backwards and hurt her head on the boulder.  Then Brahms took the other rock out of my hand when the adults came and it looked like he was the one who killed her, but it was me!   _I_ killed her!  And now they're both gone and it’s all my fault!!”

He was sobbing now and lay crumpled in her lap overcome by fear and remorse at what would happen to him.  He was terrified that he would go to jail or even die as his punishment.

_“Oh God.”_

She whispered to herself the words that confirmed her suspicion.  She stopped moving her hand in his hair, feeling dizzy from the weight of his words.  Brahms’s death in the attic fire wasn't an accident.  It was intentional and his parents were the ones who caused it.  They lied to everyone about it and managed to convince the firefighters and ambulance who showed up at the scene of Emily’s death.  She had always felt that something was off about the deaths and the coincidences were blaring, but no one said anything and soon the it was all brushed off by everyone.  Brahms’s body was never recovered and it was just assumed that his remains had been destroyed by the fire.  The Heelshire’s wealth and clout most likely helped to bury any further evidence from being recovered.  She knew that if such an incident occurred in her town, The Heelshires would be in jail.  

Her thoughts turned to the boy in her arms who lay weeping.  She wouldn't let anything or anyone destroy him, too.  She knew the magnitude of his confession would never be understood by anyone, most certainly not by either of the families.  She let out a long sigh and decided at that moment that she would never let the truth come out for as long as she and Benjamin lived.  Perhaps in his later life when he was far away from this place and even then, the choice would have to be his.  But now, now she would make the choice and be his protector, his guardian doing the closest thing that she believed that his own mother would do.  There was nothing that she could do for poor Brahms but given the maliciousness of his family, she would never trust that the welfare of Benjamin would be on anyone's mind but her own.

She brushed his wet hair from his forehead and gently pulled him up so that she could look at him.  Tears were streaming down his face and his nose was bright red.  He sniffled as his eyes caught hers and he let out a loud, wailing cry.  Something in his heart opened up and though everything in him wanted to hold back his emotions, something stronger was pushing them out to her, _for_ her. It felt somehow familiar crying there in her trusted arms.  He suddenly realized that what he was feeling was what it was like with his mother when she consoled him and always made him feel loved. For an instant he felt confusion, but his open heart betrayed him, almost urging him to feel those feelings of trust again.  Of _love_.

“You won’t tell anyone, will you, ma’am?  You won't let them send me away, will you?”

She gently wiped off Benjamin’s wet face with her hands and gathered a small cloth from his supplies so that he could blow his nose.  She held his shoulders for a moment until he looked up at her and lightly held up his chin with her hand.

“I will _never_ let anything bad ever happen to you, Benjamin Greenwood.  For as long as I’m alive, I promise that I will protect you and keep you safe.  We will get through this together.  If you ever get sad or you want to talk, I am here for you.”

She decided to leave out the parts about not trusting anyone, most especially his own adoptive parents.  She would see to it that not a word would be breathed about the truth that she just discovered.  There was time enough to figure things out, but for now, she had to keep her boy safe. _Her_ boy.  The words felt strange to her but even though they weren't literal, she allowed herself to take on the real meaning of what it was to be a parent.

“And please, call me Madelaine.”

She pulled the boy to her and cupped his head with her hands.  She layed kisses on his teary face and stroked his forehead gently with her thumbs.  She gave him a smile and kept it there until he was able to smile back a little.  She pulled him close and hugged him deeply, letting him whimper a little more until the tears eventually stopped and he lay his head in her lap falling into a gentle sleep.


	6. A Voice on the Other End

It was cold again when Benjamin decided to venture to the rooftop one lonely evening.  He had come many times before since Brahms’s death desperately hoping for a sign of his friend.  He never saw the faraway torchlight giving him his sign.  Only the stars kept him company each of those nights.  He watched them become blurry through his tears and wished that just one of those stars was his friend.

He began thinking about the dreams that he had been having of Brahms but he wasn't able to ever see his face.  The images were always the same; he found himself traveling slowly through strange, dark walls, scared, _terrified_ and alone.  So alone.  Benjamin didn't know what the dreams meant and how he knew that they were about Brahms, but he was happy that at least his friend was with him even when he wasn't awake.  It make thinking about him less painful and he welcomed the slumber that relieved the ache he felt when he wasn't sleeping.

The Greenwoods had also started to have strange experiences with phone calls.  The telephone would ring but no voice could ever be heard when they picked it up.  On one occasion when they were away, Benjamin answered and heard a faint voice that sounded like Brahms.  He was sure that The Greenwoods would tell him that it was just his imagination and he didn’t dare speak of the incident.  But he looked forward to them being out of the house and hoped that the phone calls would come when he could be there to answer.

Many months had passed since his friend’s death and it felt like Benjamin was being pushed into a world that was relentlessly taking over him.  Though he had no desire at all to move forward, he felt forced to and was overwhelmed with the pressure.  The Greenwoods insisted that he continue with his botany studies.  Benjamin began to feel like a science experiment that they were growing for themselves.  He resented that they tried to be an influence on his beloved world of nature.  He was secretly repulsed by their lack of real understanding which was only a contaminant to the love and respect that had already germinated inside of him, his own very real treasure. He cherished that it was the only thing that brought him solace; his sanctuary was a private place that needed to be his and only his without the weight of outside world.

***

Benjamin lay on the posh sofa one afternoon in the reading room pouring over some of the library’s books.  It was his second favorite place other than outside of the manor.  He bored easily with his studies and preferred instead to occupy his mind with things that interested him in his free time.  The children’s stories he saved for bedtime but in the library he had an expansive array of fine literature from which to choose.  He barely heard the telephone ringing on the table next to him before he realized that no one was answering it.

_“Hullo?”_

It felt odd talking to potential strangers that he couldn't see.  He didn't want to sound like a little boy and tried hard to represent himself as an important part of the The Greenwood manor.  He had little reason trying to sound like a grown-up, but the last few occasions had given him some rehearsal.  He knew each time that even though he couldn't be seen by the caller, his voice always gave away the practiced importance.  It was worth the trouble just to see if he could perhaps hear his friend on the other end of the line.

 _“Hullo?”_ he said again.

He heard a very faint, rapid breathing.  And then, Brahms’s faint voice.

_“B—Benjamin?”_

His palms began to sweat at hearing the long familiar voice.  His mind spun grasping at the logic.  Was this something from the past?  Was it a recording?  

_“Benjamin, are you there?”_

The voice trailed off and the breathing became louder, almost frantic.

_“...I—I’m scared...”_

He didn't know what to do.  If he answered, then maybe he would get in trouble.  Perhaps this was a test from The Greenwoods to see if he would behave.  Maybe they would punish him for trying to carry on with some game.  He didn't want to make them mad.  But he didn't want to end the conversation.  He had to say something to keep the voice on the line.

_“Bra—aahms?”_

His broken voice trailed upwards with apprehension.

“Benjamin!  It’s you!  Help me!   _Please!!_  I’m scared and I’m burnt!”

The voice broke and began to cry.

“They won’t let me go anywhere. I don't know what to _do_ !!   _Please!...”_

The manor’s large front door opened and Benjamin heard voices in the entrance hall.  On impulse, he slammed the phone down before mumbling quickly into it.

_“..I have to go...”_

He sunk back into the sofa and tried desperately to look busy with his reading.  He could hear The Greenwoods’ voices in the hallway.  They were talking about something that Benjamin couldn't understand, but it sounded like the grown-up talk that never interested him.  When the conversation continued past the library and down the hallway, he directed his thoughts back to his hearing Brahms’s voice on the telephone.  His brow furrowed as he recalled his ghostlike words. His mouth hung slightly open with pained thoughts of his friend being hurt.   _Had_ his parents really _burned_ him?  He never said if he was alive.  Had he actually died and was now a _ghost_?  

His head reeled with questions that he tried logically to answer each one.  He felt so helpless without his confidant there to talk to.  Brahms was the only one that understood him and could help make sense of out things.  Now he only felt alone and completely isolated from the rest of the world.  He realized that he felt the most scared and hopeless that he had ever been.  He knew of only one thing to do that would help him and maybe even Brahms.


	7. Darkness to Light

The Greenwoods spent most of the afternoon consumed with an event that was taking place outside the manor that evening.  It allowed Benjamin a chance to plan his own night as he waited patiently for The Greenwoods to leave.  

When Benjamin finally heard the driver roll away, he hurried through the empty manor and up to the rooftop.  He quickly sat down on the pebbled ground and focused on the night as it began to fall. He was happy for the warmer air that evening that would give him a chance to stay outside longer if he needed to.  He held his torchlight up in front of him and clicked it a few times just to see if there was an answer on the other side of the tree tops.  Now he wasn't sure if he should go back inside and wait for the telephone to ring again in case…

His thoughts were interrupted by a flash from where Brahms shined his light.  Benjamin counted the morse codes, hopeful that the lights were a message and his heart stopped when he realized that they were.  Someone was talking to him.  Was it Brahms?  Was it The Greenwoods or Heelshires?  Were they testing him to see if he was being bad?  He didn't care anymore.  His racing thoughts managed to absorb the message that was coming.  It was short with instructions and when the lights stopped, he immediately ran across the rooftop and down through the manor until he was outside again.  He continued to race across the grounds towards the forest.  He glanced quickly over to the area where Emily had died and kept moving faster and faster until he reached the exact coordinates.

He stopped and stood waiting and listening for any sounds around him.  The forest was deathly silent.  It was completely dark and there was no moon in the sky.  The same stars that he had seen high up on the rooftop seemed much farther away now that he was below the treetops.  They felt so tall above him and he expected them to bend down and swallow him.  He had the same fear when the tall trees surrounded him and his parents just before they died.  He didn't want to be in this space and he was scared even more to be in it alone.

_ “Benjamin??” _

He whirled around almost dropping his torchlight at the voice.  It was familiar but something was off about it.  He strained in the dark to try and see where it had come from.  He waved his light around, losing his grip from his sweating palms, frantically searching for a sign that he wasn't alone.  

He saw him at last.  The torchlight caught his face and Benjamin gasped at what he saw.  It was Brahms, but the right side of his face was disfigured.  The flesh had all burned off and he was almost unrecognizable.  He stared into those familiar eyes that told him that it was Brahms.  He knew then that the soul of his friend was not gone and whatever had happened to him didn't take away what was left.  

Brahms exhaled not realizing that he was holding his breath and started to cry, first in a whimper and then with uncontrollable sobs.  He crumpled to his knees, his body shaking while he struggled to breathe between his cries.  It was a long-held release of pain, turmoil, shame and grief that he wasn’t able to share with anyone.  His tortured months spent alone in a dark room by himself and the limited visits from his parents made the pain of the fire far less worse.  He had no experience from which to draw on how to handle what had happened to him and had to learn by himself to adjust to the trauma.  He felt utterly and completely alone for the first time in his life and didn't have a single person to lean on.  He was desperate for answers to so many questions and terrified that he wasn't allowed refuge to any one of them.  The punishment of not being allowed any freedom from his torture far outweighed the fresh scars from his physical trauma. 

“ _Brahms_?”

The boy looked up at Benjamin from where he sat on the ground, his face wet, swollen and red; his sweat and tears reflected harsly in the torchlight.

“It’s me…..it’s still me.”

He looked down again and sniffled loudly as his voice shook.

“I haven't gone anywhere.  They locked me up...and want everyone to think I’m dead, but I’m  _ not _ .  I’m NOT dead, but I wish I was!”

It was the first expression of anger that the boy felt in a long time and old emotions that were dormant were starting to awaken.  His soul and body had been in a prison, shackled and beaten, unable to escape the torture of doom he had been living in.  Being able to speak out loud to another person who would listen made him feel like a human being again.  It made him realize the truth of his situation and the trauma that he had endured, that was  _ inflicted  _ on him.  He had asked his parents over and over what had happened in the attic and why they were confining him to a room inside the walls of the mansion.  They would never give him an answer and only stayed with him long enough to tend to his wounds before leaving him alone again. He was flooded with emotions now and rage was building in him.  He wanted to damage something,  _ anything  _ badly.  He stood and took his fury out against a tree, shredding his knuckles while they bled through each blow.  His body hurt from being trapped in the room for so long and even then he was only being able to secretly wander the dark walls of the mansion, exploring them slowly and carefully.  He felt like a caged animal confined to a small space meandering through its own prison. The house that he grew up in and was so familiar with now took on a life of its own and became another place, a horrible place, as if he was living behind a mirror and seeing it for the first time.  He didn’t know which side of the mirror was real.  His happy memories before the fire seemed like a cruel alternate universe that was once real and now he was being forced into a dark world that he would have to spend the rest of his life living in.

Benjamin watched as his friend collapsed on the ground again.  He had stood perseveringly by his side absorbing what he saw, allowing his actions to tell the story and suddenly wishing that he could absorb some of that pain for him.  He ached, too.

Benjamin had always been able to see a light in people.  As a child, he first saw it in his parents.  When he lay in bed at night, he remembered the light inside of them and he knew that was what kept them alive today.  Even their death could not extinguish the glow that they each had; that he  _ felt _ .  It was difficult to see that light in other people, especially in his new world.  None of the adults had it.  He saw and felt something in Madeleine that was different.  He saw a brilliance in her that outshined her physical body.  One thing was certain to him now.  There was no light left in Brahms.  The fire had taken it.


	8. Awakening

Benjamin stood staring at the room that Brahms was now confined in.  They had traveled through what seemed like miles of dark passages in the mansion to get to it.  The cramped living quarters were dark with only a few lamps in each corner of the room.  A small bed was pushed in a corner between two walls.  A wash basin and a small refrigerator were next to another wall.  A short set of wooden stairs led to a second landing.  The entire room felt oppressive and scary.  Benjamin couldn't believe that this was where Brahms had to live. It was the worst punishment that he could ever imagine.

“Why did you take the blame for what I did?”

It was a question that he wanted to ask for so long.  The question haunted him and made him wonder what kind of person his friend really was. It was one thing to do something by mistake but for someone else to want to _own_ it, to make others believe that he was capable of it...Benjamin realized that the thought scared him.  Was Brahms a _killer_?

His friend shrugged his shoulders nervously and looked downwards.  

“I didn't want you to get in trouble.  It meant that they might take you away and I didn't want you to.  I...I would miss you.”

He paused and whispered quietly.

“You’re my best friend.  You're my _only_ friend.”

Benjamin could only stare back at him.

“But, would you have wanted to kill her?  On _purpose_?”

The boy’s head shot up.

“Of course not!  I’m not a murderer, Benjamin!”

His burned face reflected more anger and hurt than his injuries already showed.  

“I’m sorry, Brahms...I’m sorry.  This was _my_ fault.   _I’m_ the reason that you’re here.  It should have been _me_ and not you who was punished.”

His eyes welled up with tears.

“What is going to happen to you?  Will you stay here forever? Can you ever go out? How long will you be punished?”

“I don’t know.  I don't want anyone to see me like this.  I’m a monster…”

“No, you’re not!  Don't say that!  You're good and kind I don't care if you have scars on your face! You're my friend and you shall always be my friend.  Damn The Heelshires!!”

Brahms stared at his friend with an open mouth.  He had never sworn before and it was shocking to hear.  He suddenly felt so alone.  Even his own parents, his own flesh and blood, were evil.  He began to cry again.

“I'm scared, Benjamin.  I’m so...scared...”

“It’s all right.  I am always going to be here for you.  Just teach me the passages and I will visit you all the time in the room.  We will have a secret code that will let us know when it is safe to visit. It’s better that I come here than if you come to see me.  We can always rendezvous in the forest if need be.  We’ll make it work, I promise.  Allright?”

Brahms’s eyes had a flicker of light behind them and Benjamin’s heart began to swell at the sight, revealing to him that his spirit was indeed still alive.

“All right,” he answered.  

“It’ll be our secret.”

There was a long pause between them as Benjamin stared around the barren room.  

“What is this place? Has it always been here? Have your parents ever punished you in this room?”

Brahms glanced around the room and sighed loudly.

“I’ve no idea.  I’ve never been here before.  All I know is that my face was on fire and then I woke up in this bed.”

Benjamin gently continued with his questions.

“But...what happened?”

There was another long pause as Brahms wiped his wet palms on his trousers.

“Mummy and Daddy told me to go to the attic when we left Emily Cribbs.  They wouldn't tell me why and only said that I had to follow their rules not to disobey them and to follow their instructions exactly.  When I arrived at the top, the door shut behind Daddy and I was left all alone.  I stayed there in the dark all alone.  I was afraid to cry out because they told me to be quiet so I just stood there waiting to hear someone’s voice.  And that’s when I smelled the smoke and the fire came.”

He winced as he recalled the memory.

“Something large fell next to me and when I tried to move, the flames caught my face and…”

His small hands gingerly pressed against his right cheek and dropped when he flinched.

“...and then I suppose that I went to sleep or something.  When I woke up, I was here, but all alone.”

His scared eyes locked with Benjamin’s.

“I can’t tell you how badly I was in pain.  It felt as if my whole head had burned but I could still see and breathe even though I didn’t know what happened to my face.  I thought that perhaps I was in Hell and this was my final punishment for being a bad boy.  I was crying, but it hurt to move my face and no one heard me anyway.  I think that I went unconscious or something because when I woke up again, Mummy was standing over me. I couldn’t believe that she was alive and then I thought that we were both in Hell together. She was crying.  I’d never seen her crying like that.  She kept saying how sorry she was and that she never meant to hurt me and then she tried to hug me and I couldn’t stand to move.  I couldn’t talk.  All that I could do was cry and even that hurt s—so...ba—dly.”

His voice cracked.

“Anyway, I don’t remember very much after that.  I slept a lot and sometimes Mummy would come and try to make the wounds heal.  After a while, the pain stopped and my whole cheek got stiff.  I still couldn't move it.  I suppose I didn’t really need to.  I didn’t have anyone to talk to and all that I could eat was soup and porridge.”

He grimaced.

“It was awful.  I _detest_ porridge.”

“I know,” Benjamin offered quietly.

“After a while, when I got better, I asked her where Daddy was and she said that he was in the rest of the house.  I didn’t understand at first but then she told me that this was to be my room from now on.  I asked her why I couldn’t go to my old room and she said that I had to stay here.”

His sad face dropped towards the floor.

“But she wouldn't say why…”

“It's all right, Brahms.  I’ll stay with you so you won’t be lonely.  We can keep each other company.”

Benjamin attempted to sound cheerful, but he was quietly trying to comprehend everything that had happened since he found Brahms in the woods.  There was so much that he didn't know since Emily Cribbs’s death.  It would take time to sort it out in his head and maybe Brahms would be ready to tell him more later. Right now he had to focus on being by his friend’s side and he made a vow to never leave him.  They were bound together now and he swore to himself that bond would never, _could_ never, be broken, by anyone or anything.


	9. Nurture

“This life’s dim windows of the soul  
Distorts the heavens from pole to pole  
And leads you to believe a lie  
When you see with, not through, the eye.”

_William Blake_

 

* * *

 

The humidity in the greenhouse felt welcoming against Benjamin's skin, its atmosphere inside a sharp contrast to the cold spring air.  He paused to look around at the lush plants while running his fingers through his hair, combing it across his forehead.  He paused then to scratch at the short bristle on his cheeks, a reminder of the impending doom of shaving later.  His chambray shirt lay untucked over his white cotton shorts, the banded collar at his neck barely covering small strands of hair peeking out from his chest. The culmination of hard work that took years for him to grow surrounded him. The rainbow of colors from the plant varieties lit up the glass walls and served as a beacon of light against the dismal, gray scenery on the other side.  His pride and joy was a hybrid that he had created from tiny seeds and had watched patiently flourish for many years since.  The name on the plant’s tag was a special one he chose from his childhood bearing the memory of someone who had long since disappeared.

The Greenwoods had hopes that he would patent his creation; their goals were lofty for his surname to mark a new plant variety that would mean the recognition that they had for long desired.  It was in opposition to everything that Benjamin stood for.  Its very conception began long before he nurtured the seeds; its life first existing in his own spirit.  He would not let his joy be stolen by someone’s simple human desires.  This was something that he created for a higher calling.  Giving respect to his beloved world of nature meant not possessing what he owned or making it a slave to an institution in the name of greed.  He cherished his time with Madelaine and hoped to carry her spirit inside the very seeds that produced the rare plant.

 ***

“Brahms, the master must water the plants in his lair if he wishes to have air circulating in it.  I cannot keep bringing you new contenders each time that they wither and die.”

Brahms snickered from the second landing as he dropped the charcoal from his hands onto his work table.  He closed his drawing tablet and walked barefoot down the stairs, his trousers disheveled and his dark button-down shirt half undone.

“Well, my Lord, I beseech you to bring a very fine maiden to my dungeon so that she may tend to the _very many_ needs that I am requesting she fulfill.  One cannot do so many things all by one’s self, now can he?”

He chuckled and walked towards Benjamin, bowing in jest, then taking his new plants and inspecting them with awe.

“These are quite nice, Benjamin.  To what do I owe this most fortuitous pleasure?”

“Just water the bloody things sometime this century.”

Brahms rolled his eyes and walked to the steps of the open staircase ledge to replace the long-dead remnants of his forgetfulness.

“Yes, yes.”

“I’m serious, Brahms!  What if you were to have a _fine maiden_ in this lair and she saw your dead plants?  What would she think?”

Brahms gave him a contemptuous look when Benjamin curtsied at the words.

“I don’t think that the plants would be the first thing on her petrified mind, my friend.”

Benjamin rolled his eyes at him and sat down on the unmade bed.  

“You know, you don't have to stay here forever, Brahms.  You’re eighteen now.  You’re not confined to the rules of The Heelshires any longer.  You can live your own life if you wanted to.”

Brahms plopped down next to him.

“Benjamin, you are forgetting one very fine detail.   _I don’t exist_.  How am I supposed to travel the world and find a lovely wife without even a bloody passport?”

“I told you.  There are ways around that.  God, look at the corruption that led me here.  First my parents are murdered in the name of a country’s fucking _rules_ and now that same country is free as a whistle.  Imagine if they had left now.  I’d still have them.”

“Yeh, but you wouldn't have me!”

Brahms grinned from ear to ear, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head back and forth, his soft, brown curls bouncing on his head.

“You’re a foolish bloke, my friend.  And mad!”

Brahms punched him playfully in the shoulder and laughed with him, but deep inside both boys knew their sordid fates.  Brahms would never leave the mansion and Benjamin would never leave him. There was a painful yearning in each of them to find that first love and to have that love, but with no means to obtain it.  Benjamin was uncomfortably aware that he had a choice to venture into the world, but his heart kept him here. He was aching to know what it was like to be with a girl and knew that he never could unless he made the sacrifice to leave his best friend.  He sensed that Brahms felt the same way, if not more.  He could tell by his drawings that there was a girl of his dreams in his head.  He guarded her with secrecy and Benjamin knew that he was embarrassed to show that vulnerable side of himself, even to his only confidant.  But he understood.  He understood that some things were sacred and the desire to fulfill this natural part of themselves without the kindred spirit of the other was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

“The Heelshires are having another event.”

Benjamin thought for a moment before replying.

“Are the Greenwoods invited this time?”

Brahms shrugged his shoulders.  They had long since disconnected from their parents; Benjamin always having refused to give The Greenwoods the title and now, after too many years of the slow, growing knowledge of his parents’ evil nature, Brahms, too, believed himself an orphan.  Both friends were the closest to blood relatives that they could ever have.  It was an unspoken truth that they had bonded as blood brothers the night of the fire.

“What shall I wear?”

Brahms laughed with a sneer on his face.  He had grown accustomed to the scars on his cheek, learning to talk around them and to form new facial expressions despite the deadened nerves.  What he missed more than the chance to become a refined gentleman, able to use his wit and charm on a girl, was the fact that he would never have the touch of her hand on his face, or, he believed anywhere else.

“Shall I meet you back here after supper?”

Benjamin was used to the occasional gatherings at The Heelshires. It gave both boys a chance to peek inside a larger version of their already bleak world.  It was a sordid opportunity to see new faces and watch the interactions of people that they didn't want to be around, but were able to vicariously live through.  It was a cruel need that they had to spy on the very world that repulsed them.

“Yes.  After 8:00.”

“Shall I bring you anything special?  I believe that we’re having your favourite, Brunswick Stew.”

Brahms smiled slowly and his mouth began to water at the thought of his favorite home-cooked dish.  It was a far cry from the freezer full of ice-cold leftovers that The Heelshires kept for him in the kitchen. Sometimes he was able to eat outside the walls of the mansion if it was late enough and there was little interaction.  But more often than not, he was stuck in his room heating up cold food and eating it over one of books.

“Yes, that’d be nice.  Thank you.”

“Right, then.  See you, old friend.”


	10. Rites of Passage

The sounds of clinking glasses and subdued chatter filled the spacious rooms of The Heelshire mansion.  Posh guests strolled inside from their lavish cars, which were heavily lined around the circled driveway in the front.  The cool air of the falling dusk brought them in one by one from the gated entrance far up the mansion and down the pebbled pathway, where at last, they were assured a stately entrance through the grand, oak doors.

The air inside the manor was growing warmer, the fitted attire worn by the guests added to their swelter and the alcohol only increased the heat.  Many guests had ventured to the rooftop terrace where the air of the darkening night was clear and fresh.  The rush of cigar and cigarette smoke flew up past the treetops, its stream drowning out the brightness of the stars high above.  

A small crowd huddled by the thick concrete railing, some lazily resting their arms on the cold ledge, welcoming the breeze around the mansion walls.  A gentleman held a glass of port in one hand and took a draw from his cigar with the other before continuing a conversation.

“Ladies, ladies, all I’m saying is that no one knows what happened to him.  The doll may be haunted, but I’m quite certain that it’s the house.  It’s been ten years and they haven’t recovered the body.  I say that the boy is dead and buried somewhere far off the land with the intent of making it seem that the fire was an accident.  It’s plain and simple.”

A lady interjected, holding her long cigarette in between her white, satin gloves.  

“But they never found the body.  You simply can’t have a haunting without the body.  I say that he escaped the fire and they sent him away.  Plain and simple.”

She shot the man a glance as she made her own point.

“Whatever the case may be, you cannot tell me that there is something incredibly perverse in having that doll.  I mean, she’s a _grown_ woman.”

The man turned slightly to look over his shoulder for any listening ears.

“What kind of nutter do you have to be to want to carry around a porcelain doll fashioned out of your late son?”

He paused dramatically.

“I ask you.”

The other two guests sauntered their way out of the conversation, bored with the chatter.

Benjamin peered through the dark, dusty slats from the walls behind the billiard room, his hands in his pocket trousers observing one of the guests with amusement.  A man was perched on the sofa’s edge in oxford shoes and argyle sweater which gave him the appearance of high intellect. But the sight of the bookish man trying discreetly to pick his nose while gazing lazily around the quiet room taking in the scenery was too much for the boys. Benjamin snickered with a wide grin on his face, looking over at Brahms to see his reaction.  He was also trying not to laugh, one hand over his mouth, while the other held his stomach as he turned to Benjamin with wide eyes.  As guests moved into the room interrupting the nose picker, the animated facial gestures and stifled chuckles died down between the two, and they resumed their travels through the walls in search of other colorful guests.  

A young girl sat on a posh, wing back chair in the library, a thick book opened in her lap.  She studied the pages intently with no regard for the guests trickling into the room, or possibly the entire mansion.  She was clearly alone and the boys knew that she had never been a guest at the manor before.  Benjamin lost his balance trying to get a closer look at her, the old wooden wall giving way to his eagerly pressed face against it. She raised her head in his direction and casually returned to her book.  He exchanged a silent look with Brahms to see if he noticed, but in the next moment she stood and began to walk over to them and they each gasped when she stopped just inches from where they were standing.  She paused, inspecting something just below them and pulled a book from the wall’s shelf.  The boys exhaled, both of their hearts racing at the near miss of what could have just been—something.

She returned to her seat with the new selection and resumed her reading.  Her hand began to play with the dark blonde braid that rested on her right shoulder.  She wasn't dressed in formal attire like the other guests and instead wore a simple, dark green sweater.  It was heavy enough for the chilly early spring air, but light enough to remain comfortable.  Her demeanor was relaxed, if not aloof, as if she was out of place amongst the people around her.  Without the atmosphere of the formal party, she would have been a natural part of the library room itself.

The boys turned to each other with wide eyes and questioning looks.  They continued to stare at her, drinking in every detail of her form, watching her slender fingers turn the thick pages.  After a while a guest strolled in who seemed to know her and she turned from her fixed gaze on the book.  She stood and walked slowly to the shelf placing it back carefully only inches from the other side of the wall.  The boys caught her faint scent and as she walked out of the room, each closed his eyes trying to hold in the fragrance.

***

It had been hours since the last guests drove away from the manor and the sound of car doors slamming died down.  The boys were on the rooftop sitting among the spent cigars and cigarettes, crystal ashtrays overflowing around them.  Benjamin had kicked off his shoes and Brahms sat barefoot with his arms propped on his knees that he had pulled up to his chest. Several half empty glasses of various brown liquors remained on the concrete railing and each sat on the ground drinking the leftovers.

“Two's up.”

Brahms handed over another shared cigar to Benjamin, the taste making them both cringe and giggle at the same time. Their noses were covered in dust and dirt from staring through the walls. They continued their laughter and resumed their imitation of the guest conversations from that evening.

“Well, old chum.  I wonder who she is and from which family she hails.”

“I don’t know, old boy.  From what I gather, she hails from somewhere north of our country.  Perhaps a fine, Scottish lassie.”

“Indeed, she’s quite young, though.  She may have been the daughter of one of our own or perhaps a nanny, but I hasten to think that anyone should bring a girlish creature to the likes of such a gathering.”

“Well, no harm.  It isn’t as if she’ll find a young mate under this large roof. Hahahahaha.”

Brahms gesticulated with his arms while laughing loudly to himself as Benjamin gave him a disdainful look.  He knew that his friend hurt deeply knowing that he didn't exist to the outside world and it pained him to watch himself make light of the tragic reality.  He stared across the terrace rail and sighed loudly.

“Brahms...”

“Oh, it’s alright, love.  There may never be another belle at a ball here anytime soon.  It was adorable to watch, though, don’t you agree?”

They each sat back on the wall marinating in their thoughts and remembering the girl with the braid who loved to read.  Both boys had already located the books that she was reading from the library; tracing their fingers over the dusty spines, trying in haste to capture her prints onto theirs.

***

Mrs. Heelshire sat holding the porcelain doll on her lap and sipping her hot tea with lithe fingers.  Mr. Heelshire was positioned next to her in a plush armchair.  They were relaxing in The Greenwoods’ manor after the night had come to an end, a favorite after event tradition shared by them all.  Mrs. Greenwood leaned over to the doll next to her and gently touched his head.

“Darling, you’ve been such a good boy this evening.  It’s a wonder that you’re not home in bed from all the excitement.”

Mrs. Heelshire smiled delicately and caught her husband’s eyes.  The exchanged looks between them showed a sorrowful remorse twinged with hope and longing, the doll a painful reminder of the son that they had lost ten years earlier.  It was common knowledge that Brahms now lived in the three-foot high porcelain frame of the finely created doll.  At least to The Heelshires he existed, though to everyone else it was evident that wherever his soul was it had definitely extinguished in the horrific fire a decade ago.

“All the guests and the lively atmosphere arouse him so.  He simply cannot wait for the chance to be around people.”

Mrs. Heelshire continued pouring out her adoration for her son as she adjusted his fine tweed tie.  The Greenwoods glanced at one another, a knowing look on their faces.  They saw through the tragic facade knowing that the Heelshire boy had long since been gone.  They felt a twitch of guilt knowing that their own was still alive and well and _flourishing_.  His botany studies were laying a golden path towards a promising future as a horticulturist.  Benjamin was well aware of the push to succeed; in contrast, the very reason for his interest lay deep in the ground beyond any books or fame or wealth.  The conflicting desires from both families were a sharp contrast to the reality of the sons that they had raised.  Burying secrets took more practice than allowing the truth to see the light of day.  Sometimes the harsh light of reality was too unbearable for the hidden agendas of the elders, separate, but the same.

“How is Benjamin?”

Mrs. Heelshire leaned back on the sofa cradling the boy doll in her arms.

“He’s definitely eighteen,” Mrs. Greenwood said with a nervous laugh.

“When he’s not digging in the trenches of the earth, he stays out most evenings and pontificates under the stars.  I sometimes think that he is growing something foreign in the depths of the forest!  He adores the outdoors and would make his bed there every night if he had the chance!”

She laughed openly feeling a mix of pride and embarrassment.  She knew that Benjamin was his parents’ son; a bittersweet reminder that his free-willed characteristics did not come from The Greenwoods.

“But he’s an _exceptional_ learner and simply devours most anything that he can read.  We are fortunate to be able to provide him with the luxuries of intellect. We will certainly do anything that we can to unearth more opportunities for him to do well.”

Mrs. Greenwood paused, knowing that dwelling on Benjamin's future would be agonizing for The Heelshires being forced to hear.  She offered solace instead.

“I do know that little Brahms is always by our Benjamin’s side.  Their union shall never perish as long as they’re together, wouldn't you agree?”

Mrs. Heelshire tried to compose herself while blinking at the gathering tears in her eyes.

“Yes.  Yes, my dear.  I suppose that will always be true.”

She freed her arm from the doll and rested her hand on Mr. Heelshire’s lap. He squeezed it gently with his own and the couples remained quiet for a moment, the doll falling slowly to the side, out of its tight grasp.

There was a quiet pause between all of them before Mrs. Heelshire slowly stood, balancing the doll on her side.  Her husband helped her get her bearings.

“We must be going.  It’s dreadfully late and Brahms will never wake in the morning.  He so needs his routine.”

She touched the doll’s hair and caressed his cheek while her husband spoke.

“Thank you kindly for the drinks and for allowing us your delightful presence this evening. It was simply _delightful_.”

Mrs. Greenwood smiled warmly, smoothing her skirt as she rose, her husband stretching in accord as he moved out of his warm armchair. She stepped over to Mrs. Heelshire and shook the doll’s hand gently.

“And you, young man.  You were such the charmer.  I always look forward to seeing you.  You sleep tight tonight.”


	11. Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rather short, but I've been stuck for a few days on what next to write and how to transition between chapters. Anyway, AppleSpice, if you're reading this, I hope that you enjoy the bit of dialogue, or rather Brahms's attempt to have it. I really love when the boys are together. They drive my writing so I can't wait to see what they have to say. Did I also mention that I love them both like crazy??

Mrs. Heelshire knelt by the doll’s bed and recited the childhood prayers that gave her comfort knowing that they would serve as protection over her son.  On this night she stayed on her knees longer, her creased hands clasped tightly under her chin. She gazed at the doll that was propped up slightly on his pillow, its porcelain face shining from the light of the bedside lamp.  The motherly instinct overcame her as she looked at the pristine reproduction of her only son. She knew that no amount of prayers would bring back the child that was forced to leave her for reasons that were beyond her control.  She used those empty years wisely and prayed every night for God to forgive what she had to do.

The imprisonment of time had softened her hardened heart but nothing would extinguish the guilt and shame of what she had done. She had prayed not just for forgiveness, but for the incomprehensible pain of her actions and those of her husband’s to stop plaguing her.  She convinced herself that recreating her son and preserving him forever in his perfect, unblemished state would be a decent enough offering for the life that was taken, replacing it with this pristine, immortal substitute.

The lies that her mind told her were enough to make her mad and those thoughts, too, she attempted feebly to pray away. She hoped that there was a magical place to send bad things so that she could also be transformed into a lifeless state only capturing what good she believed she had given her son.  Those early years of memories were something that she tried to recreate, praying that her son’s treatment was indeed good and that his own parents were decent and kind. Her heart told her otherwise; perhaps the ache and torture of her conscience was the exact replica of what her son was made up of, inflicted on him then, and especially now.

“It’s time.”

Mr. Heelshire appeared in the doorway and she turned around, tears streaming down her face.  She stood slowly, hovering over the doll, her son, her one act of remembrance and leaned for his kiss goodnight.  She switched off the lamp and walked to the threshold following her husband out of the dark room.

***

Benjamin sat across from Brahms at the kitchen table watching him devour the last of the toffee pudding.  He smiled at the sticky residue left on his hands after having dropped the spoon and resorting to cleaning the plate with his fingers.

“Quite delicious, yeh?”

He laughed as Brahms raised his head which was inches from the plate.  

“Mmmhmm…”

“Your favourite?”

“Mmmmm…”

Benjamin laughed louder.

“Which of the favourites?”

Brahms raised his eyes from his plate and glared with his full mouth at Benjamin, making him chuckle even louder.  He knew that his enjoying any delicacies were a thing of the past at The Heelshire manor and it delighted him to no end to be able to treat his best friend when he could.  He used every opportunity that presented itself, the latest being the remnants of The Greenwoods’ monthly bridge club that ended hours earlier. The mansion was now empty after the hosts accompanied their guests for more socialization elsewhere.  It gave the boys a few hours to enjoy each other’s company in a more comfortable setting than Brahms’s lair or the sometimes too enclosed forest.

Another perk of such opportunities was exchanging the goings on of their small town and its inhabitants after eavesdropping on the gossipping adults.  It was a meager substitute for their lack of exposure to any forms of entertainment, other than a lifetime of reading books or playing games. During long spells when they couldn't visit one another, the games and books were sometimes the only source to relieve their boredom.  This also sometimes proved miserable after the cumbersome act of carrying their items back and forth through the forest, so they both kept what they could on hand to play with together whenever they visited each other. This interesting visit would be prove better than a good chapter or a challenging game of chess.


	12. Hyacinth

They took the stairs to Benjamin’s room where Brahms flopped himself down on the bed in his usual manner.  His long legs dangled over the edge with his bare feet almost touching the floor. Benjamin sat at his work desk tracing circles on the open page of one of his thick books.

“Well, let’s have it then!”

Brahms was impatient to know the details of the young girl that they had seen the night before,  _ the girl _ .

“I don’t much about her.”

Benjamin smiled to himself feeling that the small knowledge that he did have of her origins made him feel closer to her already.

“She’s a foreign exchange student from Wales.  She’s staying with one of the families on the other end of town.  That’s all that I know.”

“Well?  What’s the lassie’s name, then?”

Brahms was grinning from ear to ear delighted that for the first time in such a long time, he and Benjamin were sharing news with each other that was more delectible than the town’s gossip.

“Ceres.  Her name is Ceres.”

Benjamin paused while reflecting to himself.

“Her name comes from the goddess of agriculture.  And fertility.”

The irony was not lost on him.  How fitting that the first beautiful girl that he had ever laid eyes on embodied the very thing thing that was the most precious to him.  A goddess in more ways than one. 

“Ceres.”

Brahms repeated the word, rolling each syllable off slowly and carefully, enjoying the unusual pronunciation and the way the name, _ her name _ , sounded coming off his tongue.  The two glanced at each other and smiled guiltily.  Brahms rolled to his back, one leg spread wide off the bed and his arms folded to his chest.  After a moment, Benjamin got up from his desk and flew onto the small space left on the bed next to him, his hips almost crushing Brahms.  He flung his arm on his friend’s chest curling his other to his own. The two lay there in silence for several moments before speaking again.  Benjamin sighed loudly before saying out loud what they were both wondering.

“I don’t know when she’ll return again.  It may be never. It may be at the next gathering.  I just don’t know.”

Brahms sighed in return.

“Well, there’s time enough for that and when that time comes we’ll just be more—observant of her.”

Brahms paused between his words as if trying to find the right ones to use.  He rose off the bed suddenly.

“Come on then.  We’ll see what kind of mood The Heelshires are in tonight and if they’ll grace me with a fresh dinner before it has a chance to freeze.”

***

The Greenwoods had returned from a trip into town carrying produce and fresh cut flowers.  Mrs. Greenwood went to the kitchen and began arranging the various stems in crystal vases while Mr. Greenwood strode into the living room anxious to read the town newspaper.  Benjamin appeared in the kitchen doorway and started to help unload the rest of the packages.

“Darling, look at these flowers that I acquired from the local market!  Some of your favourites are here. I thought that you might like them for your collection.  Perhaps you can plant them for next spring.”

Benjamin delicately picked up several hyacinths in shades of purple, blue and yellow, their blooms surrounded by chubby, green leaves.  He admired their delicate beauty and pressed his nose to draw out the sweet fragrance of the fresh flowers. It was a gift from Spring herself and a sign of more growth that was to come.  This was his favorite time of year as it symbolized the awakening from a long, dark wait for life and light. The air was alive with new life and the sounds outside were a beckoning, a pull for him to soak up what he waited so many months for.  The season was a perpetual gift that Nature never hesitated to always give and it was there waiting for him every year. He knew what it meant to be in the dark and to have no hope, to be surrounded not only by the death of the physical world but also the spiritual.  This was a time for him to renew himself and to have a chance to grow and spread his wings even more. He knew that the time would come when one day he would no longer be trapped in the confines of his surroundings. His plants and his greenhouse were a testament to that hope when each year he witnessed the inevitable growth from the life that he helped cultivate.

He stood alone in the kitchen leaning against the table still surrounded by the fragrant smell of the fresh blooms.  The irony that none of the flowers could come back without their roots was lost to Mrs. Greenwood. He knew that knowledge such as this would never translate to the Greenwoods beyond their own desire for him to do something beneficial with that knowledge.  His ears perked up when he heard a phone conversation from the next room.

“Well, we simply  _ must  _ attend.  She is a lovely young girl and I’m sure that it would be delightful to hear her play.  I’ll let Mr. Greenwood know, of course and we’ll just plan on being there on Saturday.”

Mrs. Greenwood placed the phone back into its cradle and turned to find her husband.

***

“It’s some sort of bridge club or garden party.”

Brahms sneered as he spoke the words.

“Do you think that she’ll really be there?”

Benjamin’s expression was not lost on Brahms and his friend smiled slyly.

“Shall we dust off the mothballs from the spring dresses, then?  I just know that there’s a pale yellow piece that would look simply  _ devine  _ next to the fresh cut daffodils!”

Benjamin rolled his eyes and turned away, inspecting the grease stains on the side of the small, white microwave in Brahms’s room.

“Do you ever tidy up in here?  Look at these fingerprints. Have you ever heard of spring cleaning, dear Brahms?  Or, just  _ cleaning _ ?”

Brahms smiled wider and began to prance barefoot around the room, his trousers flapping around his ankles and his slightly stained t-shirt pulling upwards from his waist.

“Darling, oh your dress is just  _ mah-velous _ !  Where on earth did you find it?”

“Why, it was a gift from my dear husband while we were on holiday in Brussels.  It was our 153rd wedding anniversary, you know.”

Benjamin bent over laughing loudly at his friend.  It was lost on him how he could maintain such a sense of humor from the darkness that he lived in.  This irony was not lost on him that he was more of the free spirit while Benjamin was more reserved.  Each of their surroundings were a direct contrast to their very dispositions. Deep inside, Benjamin loved the contradictions between them. It was one of the many ways that they each complemented one other and certainly a blessing that each could draw what he needed from the other.

“Well, you go and find your pastel dress because I have an idea for when she comes.”

Benjamin sat on the edge of Brahms’s bed and started to unfold his plan.


	13. Melody

A beautiful melody filled the walls of the The Heelshire mansion.  Guests were seated around a young girl with braided hair delicately playing a piano.  The classical music poured into the adjoining room where more guests sat enjoying the entrancing music.  Those closest to the pianist were transfixed, observing her slender fingers dance across the keys as her body moved with the rise and fall of each note.  Those farthest away craned their necks to take in as much as the distance allowed them; the more that they were able to see, the closer they felt to the source of enchantment.

Inside the walls of the manor, two tall figures stood mesmerized at the sight and sound of the girl playing.  As if an elixir had taken over their senses, they were paralyzed, drunk at what they were each experiencing. There were no quiet words or gestures between them, only the stillness of their bodies as they let themselves, willed themselves to be pulled into the perfect moment.

The long melody ended and the girl’s hands now rested on her lap, her body becoming still and composed as she lowered her head.  Only after a few moments of silence did the audience begin to applaud and stand, cheering their bravados. She looked up and began to smile slowly and then beam openly, unaware of the shy shrug of her shoulders that expressed her glee.  She rose from her seat and turned nervously to face the crowd, staring into the room that was farther away and bowed. One by one, each guest approached her to shake her hand and kiss her cheeks. Within the walls, two male figures began to stir, intently watching the girl’s every move matching their own steps with hers so as not to lose sight.  

The crowd began to dissipate and only a few guests remained with the girl, one of them an older gentlemen who hovered nearby and seemed to know her more than the others.  He whispered in her ear and leaned down to kiss the top of her head before moving away with the other guests. The girl waited until the room had cleared and looked around slowly searching for something.  At last she fixed her eyes on one wall and began to walk to it. The two bodies on the other side of it froze while each pair of eyes widened. She stood facing them directly and lowered her eyes carefully until she found what she was looking for.  It was a repeated moment that was yearned to be experienced again by one of the parties in the room and simply forgotten by the other.

She turned with her book and found a comfortable spot on the soft sofa next to the piano.  As if on cue, the girl’s eyes widened as she held the book. A folded piece of paper that was stuck between the pages had fallen out. As she opened it, her eyes grew wider and she instantly looked around and behind her before turning her attention back to the paper.

_“If you wish to meet the ghost, return to this spot at midnight.”_

She read the words on the paper over and over again trying to make sense of them.  She had heard some talk about the mansion being haunted but never paid any attention to it.  It didn’t interest her and she found the subject of a sad, tormented child something that she had no desire to think about.  How the adults could make up such a story about his haunting was macabre and she felt sorry for any boy who would have to face such a morbid and depressing fate.

She leaned back on the sofa still holding the paper while closing the book beside her.  The boys watching her from behind the wall looked at each other, apprehension and nervousness showing on each of their faces.  Their bodies leaned on the wall in front of them. One pair of hands was pressed against the dusty wood; the palms, now wet and clammy. They slid down slowly as the girl stood and turned to leave the room once again.

***

“Do you think that she’ll come?”

It was 11:30 that evening and the house was silent.  The boys had planned for it to be, knowing that many of the adults from that afternoon’s festivities were attending a symphony as part of an extended outing. They weren't expected back until the following evening. 

“Of course, she’ll come.  She’s young and probably bored stiff being around all those grownups.  I'm sure that she would welcome _any_ adventure.”

Brahms gave a subtle smile, his pensive thoughts becoming apparent on his face.

“But will she _go_ for it?  The plan?”

Benjamin stood in the middle of Brahms’s room with his arms folded across his chest.  He had stopped pacing for a few moments as he tried to break away from his own thoughts.

“Well, I suppose that it’ll be a mystery for all us, now, won’t it, dear boy?”

Brahms strode to a table for a morsel from the afternoon’s leftovers, ruffling Benjamin’s short hair as he passed him.  He stuffed his mouth until his cheeks were full.

“Tick tock.  Hickory dock.  It’s time.”

He rubbed his hands together in excitement and squealed at Benjamin. The struggle for him to form the words with his strong British accent around the busy mouth that was already too full caused Benjamin to erupt in laughter.  The moment became more relaxed and joyful and the nervous excitement that they both felt had turned in pure anticipation.

***

The young girl stood timidly at the foot of the Heelshire manor.  The darkness around her was intimidating. She had never been out in such a remote environment that was surrounded by a forest. Her drive over made her worry that she wouldn't be able to find her way back.

She surprised herself when she decided to make the trip at all; the absurdity of an invitation to meet some ghost filled her with an embarrassing curiosity.  She had to lie to her host family about where she was going, since she rarely ventured out anywhere. The town had been uninteresting to her and the only enjoyment that she ever felt was through her music.  She could have been at home now practicing her compositions and preparing for her an upcoming recital.

She paused as her hands gripped the latch on the great doors of the mansion.  A part of her relished the chance to see what lay beyond them if this adventure was indeed only hers and that perhaps other people weren’t invited, too.  She hummed, laughing at the ridiculous thought of a ghost actually extending a written invitation.

Her fingers squeezed the latch and she pushed against the heavy door, peering inside slowly.  Although she had visited the manor twice before, it felt foreign to her as if she was in it for the first time.  The guilt inside her began to grow that she was a stranger there and no one _physically_ asked her to come.  In a sense she was an intruder breaking into someone’s very lavish home and if she were capable of it, she could have used the opportunity to steal things and be a criminal.  The thought left her mind as quickly as it came and she remembered instantly why she was there. Her intentions weren’t devious in nature. She didn’t understand what they were.  She only knew that she wanted to find out what drew her here.

“Hello.”

The male voice behind her with the thick British accent startled her and she jumped back when she saw the young man standing near her.  He was very tall and she found his features very handsome. His face was calm and reserved but _soft_ somehow.  He was not the least bit menacing and seemed to be at ease, confident, and it began to slowly put her at ease.  

He approached her slowly and reached his arm out towards her.  She expected him to try and shake her hand but instead, he gently touched her upper arm, holding his hand there while giving her a small squeeze before letting go.

“I’m Benjamin.  What’s your name?”

“Ccc...eres.”

She stuttered, unaware at how nervous she was.  She wasn't expecting a nice, young boy to greet her or to even be here at all.  Perhaps she thought that the ghost would appear and that something exciting would happen.  She felt a very small amount of disappointment until she was led away from the entrance.

“Would you care to sit down, Ceres?”

They stood in the doorway of the library.  The room was lit very dimly with only one lamp turned on in a faraway corner.

“I believe that this may be a favorite room for you.”

Benjamin’s voice was questioning and it made the girl’s heart race realizing that he knew about the time she spent reading there.

“I...like books.”

She regretted the ill-thought-out choice of words that made her sound like a silly child.

“I mean, I very much like reading and there are so many books here.  I just liked that I was able to enjoy the time to look over some of them while I was here.  That’s all, really.”

Benjamin smiled and sat down on the posh sofa next to them.

“It’s okay if that’s a hobby of yours.  I have an interest in botany, myself.”

“Really?”

Ceres’s eyes widened.  She had never met anyone with a scientific interest in nature.  It intrigued her enough to feel more relaxed around the young man.

“That’s quite interesting, Benjamin.”

She became aware of having no idea who the young man really was.  Her heartbeat sped up a little thinking that maybe he didn’t even live in the mansion, that somehow he didn't belong in it and that they were both only guests.

“Do you live here?”

Benjamin sat back on the sofa, his hands folded in his lap.

“No, but I know the family here.  At least, I used to know them. I haven’t been here very much since I was a little boy.”

He paused, his eyes softening as spoke slowly in a near whisper.

“My friend died in this house when we were both young.  We were very close.”

Benjamin hadn’t prepared for feeling the old remorse that he had from Brahms’s death, at least the death that was real to the outside world. It was the first time that he had spoken of him to anyone in a very long time or expressed his feelings.  He turned his face away to break the awkwardness that he felt.

“I’m so sorry.”

Ceres continued to look at his profile as he stared ahead.  The low light in the room cast shadows on his features. She gazed as unassumingly as she could at the outline of his chin and the soft shape of his cheeks. The formality of his demeanor belied the gentleness of his expressive eyes which held a kindness and vulnerability behind them.  She felt comfortable discovering these few things, somehow recognizing in him a little of herself.


	14. Flesh and Blood

“Where is the ghost?”

Benjamin turned to Ceres, not expecting the nature of her visit to be so informal and abrupt.  He had a more dramatic plan that evening and the light conversation overwhelmed him and what he had rehearsed to say.  The long forgotten feelings from his past blurred his senses and he forced himself to gather his thoughts and proceed with his plan.

“He’s...here, but one can never be sure when or if he will actually appear.  I did tell him that there may be guests in his house tonight...other than me, of course.”

He paused, wincing to himself at the silliness of his words and how they lacked any sense of him knowing anything at all.

“Well, he likes music, you see.  It tends to bring him out more. Perhaps we should play something and see where it takes us.”

He raised his eyebrows in an attempt to appear mysterious, as if he had an inkling of what the manor’s ghost needed to break the ice.

“May I offer my own music to play?  I mean, if the spirit wouldn’t mind.”

Ceres rose from the sofa and walked to the piano.  As she sat, she turned to Benjamin for approval to continue.

He wasn't expecting this turn of events to happen either and forced himself to pause and think more about what to do.  He was supposed to stick to the plan should anything go wrong. There was no room for error and he wanted the evening to go as perfectly as possible.  He feared that he would scare away Ceres or worse, make her see through the charade and deem him a fool. The last thing in the world that he wanted was for Brahms to be exposed in a negative way.  This was, after all, his very first interaction to the outside world since he was a child. His own parents, even, had no desire to have physical contact with him anymore.

Ceres began to play while Benjamin was lost in thought.  As he realized what was happening, his senses again began to overwhelm him when he heard her music.  It was a different melody than what he heard that afternoon. This was somewhat somber, but quite beautiful and he couldn't help but let himself be pulled in with each note.  He marveled at how someone so small and delicate could produce such exquisite sounds from her fingers. He wondered how she had trained to play so remarkably and how someone so young could compose pieces with such depth and feeling.

He sat back on the sofa, not knowing what else to do.  He wondered if Brahms was listening. He felt guilty for being able to witness the private performance without him.  It seemed cruel that he must be watching it from within the walls. Soon he would have to emerge. It was part of the plan.

The music reached the final movement, the last few chords ending in slow, high notes.  It was breathtaking to Benjamin and he could only hope that Brahms was just as affected as he was.  He became more and more anxious for his friend to bear witness this spectacular event by his side. It just wasn't the same without being able to share it with him.

Ceres turned in her seat and looked at Benjamin. She was smiling, her cheeks flushed even in the low light.

“Will that do?  Would that be something that he would like, then?”

Benjamin smiled unknowingly at her Welsh accent.  The foreign sound was beautiful and exotic to him.  Her innocence mixed up with her unknown confidence only added to the intrigue.

“I believe that he should like that very much, indeed.  It was quite lovely.”

His head was spinning and he was beginning to feel annoyed that the tables seemed to have turned on him.  He had somehow become the unwitting guest with she knowing the strategy. He eyed the wooden cabinet that contained The Heelshires’ liquors.  He and Brahms rarely ventured into it as they found it somewhat comical when adults drank from it and always seemed to make fools of themselves.  He felt like a fool now and wondered if perhaps partaking in some of the alcohol would quell his thoughts.

He walked towards the glass doors eyeing all the different crystal bottles. He had no idea what was what and tried to remember what he had seen people drinking most often.  He chose the largest decanter with the darkest liquid and pulled a crystal glass from the shelf on top of the cabinet. He tried to mimic the movements that he had observed of how drinks were poured and into which type of glass.  

Satisfied with his choice, he stood holding his selection and smelled the contents, as he had seen done before. The insides of his nose burned immediately and he winced, turning his head to the side.

“Is that _bourbon_?”

Benjamin turned towards Ceres, not expecting to have a conversation during this unplanned detour.

“I _believe_ so.”

He had no idea what the concoction was in the heavy crystal glass.  He was afraid to try it, having somehow made it this far in the process.

“I simply _love_ bourbon. May I?”

Benjamin stared wide-eyed as the posh, young composer took the liquor from his hand, inhaling the golden brown liquid inside the glass and swirling it around against the dim light. She turned back the glass, a large sip disappearing into her mouth as she closed her eyes and hummed with a smile.  

“That’s _gorgeous_.  You must try it.”

Benjamin was beside himself with nervous fright.  He had no idea what on earth he had gotten himself into.  Poor Brahms. He couldn't imagine what he must be thinking right now.

He stood warily as she handed him her glass.  It was warm from her touch and the thought wasn't lost on him that his lips were about to touch where hers had.  He raised his eyebrows and stared at her while he hesitantly took a drink. He squeezed his eyes shut after swallowing the thick liquid, the taste burning his throat raw.  He immediately felt himself choking on the harsh sensation and as he handed the glass back to her, he watched her chuckling to herself.

“It’s quite strong the first time.”

Her smile was smug but not demeaning and he somehow felt as if she had tenderly witnessed him taking a rite of passage.  She took another sip and handed the glass back to him.

“It’s not so bad the second time.”

He hesitated with wide eyes.  His cheeks began to flush and his body felt warm.  It was a new sensation for him and her encouragement gave him a sense of safety. He reached for the glass and closed his eyes while taking another sip.  The liquid felt smoother now and he was able to taste the spice in its thickness. It was like nothing that he’d ever tasted before. The entire experience both scared him and enticed him as he began to feel at ease.

Ceres walked over to the record player and inspected the library of music next to it.  She hummed quietly while her fingers strummed over the selections. She chose one and removed it from its sleeve, placing it on the player.  The crackle of the record through the gramophone began to sound and the room was soon filled with an operatic voice. She adjusted the volume higher and stood with her eyes closed taking in the music.  Soon she stepped back and began to slowly dance to it, swaying her body in ballet-like movements. Benjamin watched with entrancement and took another sip from his drink, this time a longer one. She danced slowly around the room circling the piano and touching whatever was near with her fingers.  She brushed the thick curtains as she danced by, her hands gracefully sweeping the books on the shelves of each cabinet. She continued to spin around as the music became louder and more powerful.

The glass that Benjamin held was nearly empty and as she moved in his direction, she grabbed it while holding back her head and swallowing the last drops.  She sat down at the piano bench and began to join the melody of the other instruments in the music. Her hands danced along the keys while she swayed through the notes.  She turned to Benjamin and spoke over the music.

“Pour us another.”

He picked up the decanter and walked over to her with it, filling the empty glass a bit higher than he had before.  Her hands left the keys but her body continued to move while she took a sip. The entire scene left Benjamin breathless and the reality of why she was here had left his mind.

He picked up the glass that she placed back on the piano and drank some more.  He was starting to feel lightheaded and euphoric, a sensation that he had never before felt.  It reminded him of the birthday parties that his parents had for him as a young child and he was overcome with elation anticipating the presents.  That was a lifetime ago and he was someone else now. He wasn't sure who he had become that evening but the feeling excited him and he only wanted more of it.

Ceres stood from the piano and took his hand in hers leading him towards the record player.  She began to laugh as she spun around him while he stood watching her.

“Devine!  The music is divine!  I adore the collection and could spend a lifetime here enjoying it!”

She paused behind him and pressed her back to his.  She tilted her head between his shoulders and stood moving slowly while keeping herself balanced with him.  The music began to slow down and the room became quieter. Benjamin didn't move. The feel of her body behind him felt intoxicating and he didn't dare break the spell.  He had no idea what her intentions were, if any, but not knowing or expecting was a thrill to him. It was the first time that not maintaining control made him relax. Somehow, it felt right.

He felt her freeze behind him suddenly and gasp.  He turned around to see a tall figure standing in the threshold in front of them.  His eyes adjusted to the low light behind it and he felt a familiar sense of what it was.  Brahms was standing in the shadow, his arms behind his back and his head cocked slightly to the side.  He looked relaxed and somewhat curious as if he was someone trying to make sense of the scene before him.  

He began to approach them both slowly, his arms releasing themselves to his side as the low light from the room began to surround him.  His dark, curly hair formed a soft halo around his head, the small pieces draping around from the nape of his neck.

Benjamin could still feel Ceres’s body tightening more as Brahms stood in front of her.  They stared for several silent moments at each other before she spoke in a whisper.

“You're not a ghost, are you?”

Brahms remaining still, continuing to slowly take her in, letting his gaze wander over her entire face, silently tracing every nuance.  After several moments, he answered her by simply shaking his head. Ceres’s body tightened next to Benjamin’s and she searched behind her for his hand and grasped it, her body relaxing as he held it. She turned questioningly towards him, but he only stared back.  The plan had unraveled and he felt as if he was the unknowing participant without the foggiest idea of what was happening.


	15. Cabaret

Ceres slowly turned her face upward to Brahms where he stood still looking at her quietly. She tilted back her head, her gaze drifting to his eyes and she slowly paused to look at the scars on his right cheek. Brahms studied her face, as if searching for a reaction.  She let go of Benjamin’s hand, lifting her arm and reaching out slowly in front of her. She placed it gently on Brahms’s shoulder as if making sure that he was real. She held it there for a moment before moving it up towards his face. She stared at his eyes while grazing her fingers along his cheek, not breaking eye contact.  Brahms didn't move a muscle, letting her explore what she needed to, an instinctive part of him inviting her trust. The quiet exchange between them filled a primal sense to let down each other’s guards. An invisible circle began to form a protective wall around them that would mesh them together, locking in what was sacred from outside intrusion.

The music had long since stopped around them and only the crackle of the record’s end could be heard.  Brahms slipped away from Ceres’s hand still touching his face and walked to the player. He flipped the record over and placed the needle down, standing over it as it began to play.  She left Benjamin’s side and walked to the piano to retrieve the glass that they had shared. She kept her eyes fixed on Brahms while she stood over the liquor cabinet. Her hands were on the decanter and after a moment she turned her attention to pouring it into the empty glass.  She looked back at Brahms while she took a longer drink and set the glass back down. Each person in the room was silently lost in one another’s thoughts. The unspoken language of the music their only audible connection to each other.

“Where’s the doll?”

Brahms didn't break his gaze at Ceres and answered her simply.

“Here.”

His voice was soft but could still be heard over the music.  Ceres turned to Benjamin searching for more answers to the clues of a haunted doll, the existence of which was implanted by the world around her, now _outside_ of her.  He could only look back at her with a blank expression on his face, still intoxicated by the effects of the alcohol.  She took another long drink and stared at her hands holding the glass on the cabinet’s wooden surface. The shiny gloss was mirrored with the spilled drinks that had been poured.  She traced circles around each of the wet beads, breaking the droplets one by one.

“Let’s all dance!  This is _mad_!”

She reached for each of their hands and pulled them away from where they were all standing.  She began to form a circle, like a childhood dance, almost imploring them to form a ring together.  She threw back her head and laughed, beginning to feel the music inside her once again. That there were two to share it with, two whom she had never known the likes of, made her giddy.  In all of her sheltered life with the walls of protection that her family and host family had forced on her, she had never felt so free.

Benjamin could feel the room spinning as he was being whirled around.  He felt like he was floating on a cloud. This was the most fun that he had ever had with Brahms and it delighted him to be able to share this mystical, magical moment with him.  He looked at his friend’s smiling face. He appeared _bemused_.  He knew that look and to anyone else it may have appeared as indifferent, but he was sure that it was one of enchantment.  Though Brahms had his childish moments, he always knew where to find his guard in order to protect that sacred part of him.  He wasn't ready to let that down so soon, but it made Benjamin laugh nonetheless. He thought them all mad indeed and it was the best feeling in the world to him at that moment. If this experience was his last, he would be eternally grateful to have enjoyed all of it.

The three of them were still spinning at a ridiculous pace when the music faded away again and only the needle of the record could be heard skipping at the end.  Ceres slowed down, her face brightly flushed and out of breath. No one made an effort to stop the player and she sighed happily while still holding the other two hands.  They were still entangled in the circle which began to close in as they each walked towards each other, their heads bowed, all of them breathless. Soon their foreheads were touching and Ceres began to giggle, her wet palms grasping the others so that she wouldn't lose her grip.  She lifted her head slowly, gasping for air as she looked to each of the faces in the circle. Her smile made the others grin back while she tried to lock her eyes with each one.

She looked at Brahms’s soft curls that were now slightly wet against his neck.  The part of his face that wasn't scarred was red and flushed and brought out the rest of his features.  In the low light she could see his hazel eyes sparkling; the seriousness of his overall demeanor belied the childlike spirit that shined through them.  She rolled her head to Benjamin seeing the flushed cheeks and short, damp hair pressed down below his ears. His soft, brown eyes seemed an open window to his own gentle spirit.  There was an almost sad yearning in them that made her ache and want to comfort him for reasons that were unbeknownst to her. Each one in the circle lazily drank in the other, letting the spaces between them dissolve until only a shared one remained.

Ceres closed her eyes, feeling dizzy and tired.  She broke from the circle and stumbled to the sofa behind her where she collapsed.  Soon she was asleep, laying on her side, her small hand curled underneath her chin. Both boys remained standing in the half circle and they stood staring at the sleeping form in front of them.  Brahms moved to the record player and shut it off, placing the top back onto the decanter. He began to clean the cabinet’s surface and wiped the residue from the lone glass that was used that night.  He turned to Benjamin and knew that they had much to talk about.

***

They both sat on a loveseat facing the sleeping Ceres as they recalled every detail of the night.  After making sure that she was indeed sound asleep, they allowed their voices to become louder and soon the room was filled with laughter.  Brahms was beside himself remembering the seriousness of Benjamin’s first reactions to the plan going downhill. He watched him from behind the walls, trying hard not to giggle at the show that Benjamin tried to put on for the house guest.  

“I didn’t know what else to do!  She wasn't serious about anything!  What else could I have done but try and remain composed?”

Brahms continued to laugh.

“But you had such an air of someone so distinguished and _refined_.  No wonder she didn't take you seriously!”

Benjamin scoffed.

“You try and entertain someone like her for the very first time while doing your best at introducing the infamous Brahms, the Ghost.”

“Judging by the pale look on your face, I believe that you were the ghost, my friend.”

Brahms paused and smiled.

“I did quite appreciate the private concert by our pianist.”

He turned to look at Ceres’s sleeping form.

“It was quite lovely.”

Benjamin nodded wistfully.

“Quite.”

Brahms stood and walked to the edge of the sofa and kneeled beside it.  Benjamin watched him gingerly place his hand on her braid. It rested on her face, slightly unraveled.  He traced the stray hairs back towards the braid, letting his fingers glide along her skin. Benjamin walked over and sat down quietly next to him.

The two remained silent watching her sleep with her mouth slightly open, as they strained to listen to her gentle breathing. Their eyelids soon became heavy and before Benjamin knew it, he watched Brahms crawl onto the sofa behind Ceres, wrapping his arms around her looking as comfortable as he could possibly be.  He checked to see if her expression changed, but she only stirred slightly, as if to adjust to the cozy body behind her. Before he could think too long about it, he climbed on top of the huddle, wrapping his arms around them both, making himself as snug as he could. Soon they were all asleep, the rising dawn painting darkened hues along the walls as the quiet stillness permeated the room.


	16. Enlightenment

“There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart.”

  _Jane Austen,_ **_Emma_**

 

* * *

Ceres woke to a heavy sensation on her body which made trying to move impossible.  The weight was compounded with the light sounds of snoring and breathing behind her.  She strained to see what was on top of her and only managed to find two arms draped over her side.  She stared in panic, trying to understand where she was and how she came to be there. She turned her head but could only see that she was in a large room with a piano. The bright sun peeking through thick curtains caused her to squint and look away.  

The emotions from the previous night started to sweep over her in waves as she remembered meeting first Benjamin and then Brahms.  She moved slightly, managing to slide herself up to try and get a better view of why she was trapped by the weight. She chuckled to herself when she saw the gaping mouth of a sleeping Brahms lying above her belly and the curled hand of a sleeping Benjamin resting on Brahms’s back.  She stared in wonderment at the sight. It befuddled her how the start of a mysterious invitation from the night before could have turned into a slumber party with three strangers—including a ghost.

The urge for Ceres to relieve herself was overpowering and she managed to move the heavy bodies enough to be able to rise from the sofa.  Her head began to throb and she was forced to steady herself against the sofa’s armrest when she rose. The taste of alcohol filled her mouth and she winced at the thought of how much she had consumed, making her feel sick.

She meandered her way around the first level to find the instant relief that she needed.  As she was able to finally breathe a long anticipated sigh, she stopped in front of the bathroom mirror, marveling that her braid managed to stay in more or less one piece.  She was grateful for not having to see the smeared paint of spent makeup on her face; she abhorred the sight of girls her age wearing it. She pulled the rest of her braid out and shook the sleep out of her hair feeling a sense of empowerment not being held to a societal standard of how she should appear to others. Sometimes she wondered if her nonchalance would one day get the better of her. She hoped that the previous night’s escapades wouldn't result in such a day.

As she stepped out to the hallway, she decided to take the large staircase up to the second level.  She paused at the top step where a large portrait was hanging directly in front of her on the dark, wooden wall.  The painting showed a younger version of The Heelshires and a little boy who was poised next to them. Ceres saw something deeply familiar in the young boy’s eyes and behind the sad, quiet stare on his soft face.  His delicate expression separated him from the haughty and unwelcoming stares of the two older figures behind him, their presence on the canvas creating an atmosphere of snobbish disdain for anyone viewing it.

Ceres continued down the hallway glimpsing in each room until she stumbled into one that resembled a child’s.  On the small bed propped up on a pillow was Brahms, the doll. She marveled that he was even here, given that Mrs. Heelshire traveled with him by her side constantly.  She stepped gingerly through the threshold, feeling as if she was intruding in someone’s space. The walls were surrounded with toys on bookshelves and several rocking toys on the floor.  She stood over the bed peering down at the porcelain boy, his gaze staring into a world all his own. She reached down, brushing the hair gently across his forehead, expecting somehow that his eyes would respond, that his half smile would come alive.  She stared at him for a moment longer, her tiny hope waning, before retreating back to the music room.

She stepped quietly around the sofa to see if the boys were still sleeping, then sat down on the floor stealing the opportunity to observe them silently.  She smiled to herself at their vulnerable innocence, remembering how exposed she herself had felt only hours earlier. She gazed at Benjamin first, recalling how instantly he put her at ease and made her comfortable.  The delicate features that she saw in the boy from the painting revealed themselves while she was in Benjamin’s presence. As he slept, she brushed the soft hair gently away from his eyes before her gaze moved to Brahms’s face.  His right cheek was pressed to the sofa, the scars barely visible to her. Ceres had no idea why she wasn't afraid to learn that he wasn't a ghost and that he was the doll, or rather, _it_ was actually _him_.  The only deceit that she could truly see was not tricking others to believe in something that wasn’t there, as with the doll’s ghost, but rather, hiding what actually was.  Keeping secret the real Brahms, for reasons that she wasn't fully aware, seemed a cruel reality. She feared the people who would do such a thing to someone. She wanted to know what the real truth was, and from what she could see sleeping in front of her now, the horror was not present here.

Brahms’s left eye began to open, a wan shade of pink showing the sleep still lingering beneath.  He was unable to move the rest of his head with Benjamin’s weight still on top of him and the arm splayed across his cheek.  As he tried to focus on his surroundings with his limited view, Ceres laughed suddenly, picturing Moby Dick rising from the water with one large, wandering eye exposed.

_"For what is it that makes the front of a man -- what, indeed, but his eyes?"_

Brahms grunted as he pushed his head upward, rolling Benjamin’s arm off him; both eyes now widened when he saw her.

_“Whaa—t?”_

She stifled a giggle, curious if he would know the story and the quote. He only blinked in confusion

“Never you mind.”

Ceres surveyed the rest of him, amused, while staring at his long legs and bare feet hanging over the sofa’s edge.  She found it incredibly adorable that someone so posh wouldn't keep every inch of himself clothed. She had no idea why, but she felt compelled to continue making light of the overall situation.

“I thought that Brahms wore shoes.”

He continued to stare at her and then blinked, a look of understanding beginning to appear on his face as he was able to at last form words in his usual punctuated manner.

“He ventures out a bit more than me.  I prefer a more _footloose_ environment.”

Ceres looked pleased and leaned back, resting on her hands while continuing to study Brahms.  Beside him, Benjamin began to stir, slowly uncurling his fingers from underneath his chin and rubbing a sleepy eye.  He stared first at Brahms and then their awkward sleeping arrangement. His gaze wandered over himself as he tried to make sense of why he was draped on top of his friend.  It was then that he noticed Ceres sitting in front of them, his eyes widening as his body stilled, while his senses began to slowly return. She smiled at them both, a small squint in her eye.  

“Good Morning, Sir.  It’s so nice of you to join us.”

Benjamin stirred uncomfortably and tried his best to climb over Brahms’s long frame that he had been holding captive underneath him.  He fumbled awkwardly while Brahms lay still, gladly letting Benjamin roll over his body, as he watched languidly. He stood on ground at last and ran his hand through his hair, his cheeks flustered from the early morning calisthenics.

“I...pardon me.”

He walked with unsteadiness as quickly as he could manage to the bathroom.  Once inside, he locked himself in and rested his hands over the sink. He looked up slowly at his reflection in the mirror.  His hair was disheveled and his face tired and drawn. He cursed himself for having drank the alcohol from that night and was ashamed at having lost all control of himself and the plans that he and Brahms had set out to execute.  As he stood abasing himself, he noticed an intoxicating scent around him that stilled his muscles. He recognized the scent as Ceres’s and the more that he inhaled, the more relaxed he became.

He looked at himself again as he was leaving and his face had already changed expressions.  Though he was beginning to feel the strain of an uncomfortable ache in his head that he had never before felt, there was a faint gleam in his eyes and his spirit began to rise.

He returned to find Brahms continuing to lay leisurely on the sofa while watching Ceres sit at the piano.  She was playfully tinkering the keys with one hand as she rested her other arm on the piano. It was then that he noticed her hair on her shoulders, no longer braided.  It was a bit unruly, much like everyone else’s and somehow it made him feel a sense of togetherness in the large room.

He walked quietly to the sofa, lifting Brahms’s long legs to make room for himself, then draping his arms over them as he sat back.  The two watched the girl before them effortlessly make music out of nothing in particular.


	17. The Light of Day

Ceres’s hand stopped its careless movement across the piano keys.  She paused, resting her fingers over them and leaned against her other arm on the piano.  The room became quiet and she slowly lifted her head towards the sun as it filtered through the window drapes casting a soft glow around her.

Benjamin and Brahms remained transfixed as they continued to gaze at her from behind.  Brahms had shifted his weight to his side, his head resting on his hand. Benjamin stayed completely still, his fingers absently curled around Brahms’s leg on his lap. Ceres turned around at last, not realizing the small audience watching her.  She blinked and raised her eyebrows slightly as she looked at each of them.

“Have you any water to drink?”

Brahms immediately untangled himself from Benjamin and almost tripped standing up from the sofa.

“One moment...”

His words trailed as he was already halfway out of the room.  Benjamin shot up, an awkward expression on his face as he tried to avoid making eye contact with Ceres before following Brahms.  He whispered to him loudly as they entered the kitchen.

“Brahms!  How much longer do we have before The Heelshires return?”

Brahms turned from the refrigerator and handed him three bottles of water.

“I’ve no idea, really.  I hadn't planned on a night of slumber with two of the most _interesting_ guests that I’ve ever had.”

He smirked slightly as he took one of the bottles from Benjamin and opened it slowly, hiding a smile that was forming as he pressed it to his lips.  He took a long swallow without breaking eye contact.

“I just honestly assumed that she’d be gone after she’d had enough last night and that we would have the rest of the evening to ourselves.”

Brahms’s eyes glinted as he spoke.

“I’d say that we accomplished more than we could ever have planned.”

He strode out of the kitchen leaving his words hanging and Benjamin with both of his hands full.  Benjamin only watched as Brahms walked away, quickly following him before he had a chance to continue talking.

Ceres was sitting in the middle of the sofa with her legs folded in front of her.  She looked up as Benjamin handed her the water.

“Thank you, Benjamin.”

She unscrewed the cap, putting the bottle to her lips and closed her eyes as she drank slowly.  She rested the water in her lap and turned her head up towards the boys while they both stood by the piano facing her.

“Which one of you is the doll?”

Benjamin’s mouth fell open and he quickly composed himself before realizing his surprised reaction had shown.

“Uh….er...well.”

He turned to Brahms for support.

“Neither. You’re the first to meet Brahms.  In the flesh.”

Brahms winced inwardly at his choice of words.  He couldn’t bring himself to think of what the girl made of his burned face.  He would let the game play out as long as it wanted to for as long as she was a willing participant and nothing more.  Her thoughts or her judgment were not of his concern.

Benjamin turned to his friend with a bewildered look.  He couldn't imagine what had come over him to placate someone so new to them, someone that they barely even knew or could trust.  No one knew the truth of Brahms or his lifelong friendship with him all of these years. He felt as if a rug had been pulled from underneath him leaving him dizzy with confusion and apprehension.

As if to counterbalance his choice of words, Brahms sprung back at Ceres in an effort to keep the focus off of him and his precarious state.

“What kind of girl gets drunk with strange boys in a strange mansion inhabited by a ghost in the middle of nowhere?”

Ceres swallowed and shifted her weight on the sofa.

“I’ve never done that before.”

“Which part?”

Brahms was clearly enjoying the challenge that stopped Ceres from continuing further with her questions.

“All of it.”

Ceres paused after her words.

“None of it.”

She bent her head low and lowered her voice.

“I’ve never been drunk before...I’ve never taken a drink before last night.”

She kept her head bowed for a few moments, certain that her inquisitors would say something humiliating to her.  She raised her head slowly and searched their faces for a sign. Neither boys spoke and all three continued to look at each other silently.

“I suppose that we’re only as sick as our secrets.”

Benjamin couldn't believe that the words escaped his mouth.  It was as if a strong force had a hold of him. For the past twenty-four hours, he had been under a spell and as dizzy and perplexed as he felt, something was emerging from within him that he couldn’t control.  A part of him wanted to reign as much of that unknown back inside, but a stronger part of him had no idea what it was that he was trying to grasp. It was easier to just let go whatever it was that needed to come out.  He was terrified and excited at the same time and between the comfort of his lifelong friend and this enigmatic beauty who had presented herself, balancing the two worlds only rocked him to and fro as if on a boat about to capsize.

From a distance, the crunch of gravel underneath tires startled the three of them.  With instinct, Brahms pulled Ceres and Benjamin towards an opening in the room’s wall and in a flash they disappeared from sight. All three stood against the other side of the opening, their bodies pressed against one another in a nervous huddle.  Their stifled breaths hung in their throats when they heard the manor’s front doors open and the sounds of voices entering. Ceres felt her throat drop to her stomach when she remembered the car that she left parked just in front of the manor’s steps.

_“Shit shit shit.”_

Her loud whisper to herself started each of them and for a moment, all three waited for the closed passageway that they were cowering behind to open, exposing more secrets than anyone was prepared for.

_“What on earth?  I say, is anyone in here?”_

Mr. Heelshire’s booming voice echoed through the hallway nearby.  By now, the three hidden figures were each beginning to sweat and their shallowed breathing became more difficult to hide in the small, crowded space.

“Daddy, perhaps someone is lost.  All of the doors and windows are locked and it would be impossible for anyone to come inside.”

Mrs. Heelshire’s tone was more subdued and didn't have the earlier panic that could be heard in her husband’s voice.

“Someone will turn up eventually and perhaps go on his way when he does. You know how one can become lost in these parts.  Please, let’s just unpack our things and have a rest, shall we, Daddy? It’s been an _awful_ long night.”

Their voices trailed up the stairs until nothing was heard.  From the confines of the dark, hidden space, three sets of lungs let out air while the bodies relaxed against each other.

Ceres was now clearly aware of the tall figures next to her.  She couldn't see them but sensed who was on either side of her.  On one, she could feel shallow breathing against her shoulder. On her other, an even taller frame stood with a calmer breath.  Each of their bodies had a different energy and as she stood between them both, she could feel herself absorb them until she felt consumed. It was a strange, almost erotic sensation that on one level felt somehow calm and right. _Purposeful_ ; as if each one of them was linked to the other in some kind of important, meaningful way.  And as they each three stood connected, for as long as they could be, the energy remained.

She had no idea if either of the two could feel what she felt and attributed the sensation to the alcohol perhaps still in her system.  She was certain that the adventure that she had stumbled upon in search of a ghost had led to something even more baffling and unexplainable.  The new experience both frightened her and exhilarated her.

The pit of her stomach was beginning to get queasy and she knew that if she didn’t find air fast, she would be in trouble. Without so much as a word, she fled the passageway leaving her two young hosts behind and was out of the manor in a flash.  She didn’t stop to see if anyone was looking when she jumped in her car, speeding away as the gravel flew all around. She sped up the path towards the front gates where her nimble fingers, practiced from years of playing keystrokes deftly maneuvered around the iron works and she was on the other side in no time.  The tall trees shaded her from the glowing sun as it rose in the sky above, the forest swallowing the sound of her car engine as she drove away into the deeper woods.


	18. Fall

Night had fallen around Benjamin as he lay in his childhood room.  So much had changed in just one day. His head was still reeling with thoughts of Ceres, fallen plans and expectations, Brahms and his changed demeanor after Ceres arrived.  He realized that Brahms hadn't changed after all. It was _he_ who had.

His bed felt small underneath his grown body; his long legs dangled over the edge and no matter how high he placed his head against the headboard, he could not get himself to fit properly.  He wondered how he never noticed how much he had outgrown his room. 

He stared around at the ancient relics of his childhood; the dusty toys laying against the floor boards, the books that he devoured from his youth that carried him to faraway places that he could never reach on his own if he tried; all were ghosts from a past that never evolved, that  _ he  _ could never evolve into.  He felt as if he was teetering on a seesaw with no balance to hold him steady, no ground that was safe and sure where he could fall on if he had to.  Everything in his life had unraveled and he was unable to pinpoint why or how he could have let it happen.

He rose from the bed and stood over the window, gazing across the grounds below.  Autumn was coming; his favorite time of the year. The large, golden leaves from the great trees outside were still balanced precariously on their branches, playing their game of not being ready to fall and knowing that they didn’t yet have to.  They clung still and if a strong gust of wind were to come, they’d have no choice but to break off and twist around in the air and down to the ground below.

It was how Benjamin felt.  His entire life was spent trying to be grounded, using his love for the earth and the secret world beneath it to tether him.  Everything above it was unstable and unpredictable. His very early childhood even, the most sacred part of his entire existence was taken from him.  The safety and sheltering arms of his parents, the nurturing and growth that never came to full fruition, all these things broke him when they were gone.  

His eyes burned while remembering them.  It had been so long that he felt a yearning for them and the old, familiar feelings of love and warmth that surrounded his heart when he thought of them had now returned.  It was a cruel reunion of pain and joy that created a new feeling inside. Anger began to rise. He had never once considered why or how exactly the deaths of his parents took place.  It was never fully explained to him what had happened or how he came to be here. He remembered the short time that he was placed inside an orphanage and the memories of the place itself as not being very painful, save for the torture of realizing that there was no bringing his parents back to him and the brutality of time that told him that he would never see them again.  

His only solace through the slow healing besides his ever faithful plants was his ever faithful Brahms.  He often wondered if he was the son that his parents never told him about. The secrets behind that past could surely be fertile ground for more to uncover and from what may possibly lie beneath.

He loved and cherished him.  There was no one in the world that he could trust, confide in or want to be with but him.  The only thing that separated one from the other was blood. Their souls, their hearts and their minds were bound to each other.  If Benjamin ever thought of leaving this place, his only comfort would be knowing that his tether would always be here no matter where he was.

He stripped from his clothes, ignoring his usual night clothes as he settled underneath the bed covers.  It was unusual to feel the sheets wrapped around his bare skin and he marveled that he hadn’t experienced it before.  He wondered how it ever seemed so normal to clothe his entire body in the dark and hide under covers that no one else could see.  It was another question that he didn’t have an answer to and he decided to let it accumulate with his other thoughts in the back of his tired mind.  

He realized the new sensation on his skin was over sensitive at his groin.  He stirred to find a more comfortable position but the feeling only became more intense.  He looked down across the top of the blanket and felt embarrassment at the evidence underneath them.  He couldn’t understand why he felt shamed when he was alone in his room and it was perfectly natural to feel pleasure.  But pleasure was something that he thought could only be felt during an enjoyable  _ act _ .  Working in his greenhouse, reading his books, running through the forest, watching the interlude between Brahms and Ceres.

He stopped his thoughts before his body had a chance to catch up, and his hand continued to explore what his mind could not.  The wave of the day and the intoxifying experience of the previous night returned. Benjamin caught it and held on allowing his mind to drift aside and his thoughts to continue on their journey to that unknown place.

He clenched his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut at the images of Ceres, her hair unfurled and lying against her shoulders, his hand gripping Brahms’s leg as they both watched her playing the piano, the musk of their bodies pressed together in the tight hiding space, the tender touch of their foreheads in their tiny circle of space while the music from the record player behind them had long since stopped.  At these, Benjamin finally gasped and let out a raspy whine, imagining his fingers stroking the piano keys next to Ceres’s with Brahms’s stare burning into them from behind as he watched them, languidly; always so relaxed and unhurried. It unwound every fiber in him as he uncoiled into his release, into a space that was all his own, where after he was unfurled, everything now fit. For the first time, at last, his mind, body and spirit had settled together and he experienced a comfort that he had never before felt in his life.  

After some moments he peered through his heavy eyelids finding the sheets tangled around him. A stray leg had sprawled off the side of the bed while the other lay curled around a mound of blanket.  He gathered himself comfortably, settling once again under the covers, allowing himself to fall deeper into the bliss that still held him, tethered him, back into his dream-filled thoughts.

He emerged finding himself a child again, a young Benjamin running through golden fields of grass.  His school satchel pounded behind him, the large strap holding it across his back bouncing in rhythm to his racing legs.  He was overjoyed as he chased the wind through the tall blades around him. This was a new world to him that his first home never had.  New trees, new smells, new skies; all these things made something come alive in him and he savored the moment, inhaling everything that his senses could absorb.

The wind whistled in his ears while the breeze through his hair.  His arms splayed outward letting his fingertips graze anything that they tried to grasp in the speed.  Around him he heard a gentle voice, faint at first, almost a song.  _ “...Benjamin…” _  At first he thought it to be the wind and he continued to run.  He had burst into giggles now. The voice was louder, female and somehow still a whisper in his ear.   _ “....Beeen—jamin…”   _ He faltered slowly and listened.  He knew the voice. He  _ felt  _ rather than heard how familiar it was to him now.  

_ “ _ Benjamin _.” _

He turned in his tracks to see behind him.  And there she was.

_ “Madelaine? Is it you?” _

_ “Yes, it’s me darling... Look at how you’ve grown.  You’re a beautiful young man now. I always knew that you would be.” _

She paused and stared at him as she pondered his expression.

_ “But, aren’t you happy, my beloved one? _

Benjamin gathered his composure.  He was no longer the child in the field.  He stood in his present form and realized then that he was in a dream.

_ “You seem so lost, angel.  What can I do to help?” _

_ “I don’t know why I’m here, Madelaine.  I’m so confused...about everything...everything that’s happened to me since my parents died...everything that has become my life now...what is my purpose? What am I to do  _ now _?” _

He blinked through his tears.

_ “What is expected of me?” _

She moved closer to him and graced her hands to his cheeks.

_“My child.  There has_ never _been an expectation_ from you _at all._ _The illusion is that it came from those around you.  You’ve confused what you_ think _that you’re supposed to be with what you_ know _you already are!”_

_ “But I don’t know who I am. How am I supposed to find that out?” _

She smiled gently into his eyes.

_ “Look inside.  All the answers that you could ever need are already in you and there is so much yet waiting to come out, my sweet boy.” _

She shook her head, laughing softly.  Benjamin thought for a moment that he could feel what was inside her, as if her own heart had opened up and touched his own.  It made his tears fall even more and something in his chest swelled, aching to be free.

_ “You already know, Benjamin.  You’re a smart boy, but sometimes too smart.  Think with your beautiful heart, not your mind.  Your spirit will guide you as long as you let it, and when it’s time, all will be as it should be.” _

_ “It already is.” _

_ “I love you so much.  Take good care of my sweet Benjamin.” _

He awoke in the morning, his body light and mind heavy.  He had not thought of Madeleine in half a lifetime and why she came to him now baffled him.  He had never known what had come of her or why she suddenly disappeared from his life. He remembered that no one ever actually spoke of her during the time that she was there.  No one actually spoke  _ to her  _ at all; they were alone everytime that they were together.

He lay with his arms behind his head, drawing in a long breath before letting it out as he closed his eyes to think.  He didn’t know anything anymore, it seemed to him, yet he felt that there was nothing that really needed to be known at all.  His mind demanded answers to questions that he blamed his heart for the yearning to ask. He no longer felt like a child; almost overnight it seemed, he had grown into what felt like another dimension entirely.  A doorway had opened that he was reluctant to step through and he realized that an anchor to something was what he needed, but it was the very thing that always held him back, leaving him in a constant state of free fall.  

It felt natural being pulled in this strange direction as if he was meant to move with whatever force was guiding him.  He tired of the old conventions and learning skills which bound him to a lifetime of needed structure and a forced semblance of safety, both of which he never truly had.  Without Brahms, he would have no family or safety or  _ purpose _ .  But something kept pushing him further on. He could not go there alone, nor did he want to, but the urge to move forward was instinctual, a need, a drive.  Where or what this place was, his mind could not put together. 

He rolled over, drawing the covers over his ears and sighed, laughing softly.  If only everything was as easy as handling a pot of dirt with a few growing roots, his life could easily flow, carrying him through the rest of his days.


	19. Unearthed

What felt like a lifetime passed by as Benjamin continued to brood alone.  He had dodged anyone that could have seen him that might drain his already low energy.  It was no different than the few people he had contact with, but now he could barely stand having to utter a single breath out loud.  

He could feel peace come to his mind as soon as he entered his greenhouse, the charge in the air awakening his energy from its slumber. The physical comfort of the cool soil underneath his hands quelled the confusing turmoil inside that he couldn’t see or touch.   At last, his spirit settled in the quiet around him.

_ “Where’ve you been?” _

He lifted his eyes while he rested his hands on the soil underneath.  He turned slightly to look over his shoulder, a practiced habit of ensuring that he and Brahms were always alone.  He grew used to his movements; never sure from where or when he would come. A part of him still cringed at Brahms’s ease and ability to thwart ever being noticed by anyone; another learned behavior from a lifetime of hiding, of having to  _ be hidden _ .  Often times, it was a gift and a curse.

_ “I've been here.” _

He mumbled without turning around.  He felt something then that he never recalled feeling in Brahms’s presence, or perhaps  _ because  _ of his presence.  He mind churned trying to place the emotion. It was familiar, but he could not remember what event it could have been attached to.  His thoughts raced through his past, back to his childhood to try and connect what had triggered the strange emotion.

Brahms was at his side, resting his long fingers on the counter where Benjamin worked.  He knew that he was trying to be unassuming, but to Benjamin, he may as well have been an elephant in a tulip garden.

Brahms’s eyes wandered to the label next to the flower that Benjamin was potting and widened when he caught the single name written on it.  He hummed quietly to himself. 

Benjamin leaned into Brahms’s tall frame with his arm trying to grasp a work tool out of reach.  Brahms barely turned, instinctively picking it up and placing it into the grasping fingers next to him as Benjamin scoffed silently at the aloofness in the calculated spite.

“So, is there a special meaning behind the name or is it just another broken heart next to the other one?”

Benjamin tightened his lips and glared ahead of him.

“If you mean  _ Ceres _ , the name  _ happens  _ to come from the Roman goddess of agriculture, grain,  _ and  _ the love a mother bears for her child.”

Brahms stared at the flower in Benjamin’s hands.

“Right.  How very charming.”

Benjamin spun to his side and faced Brahms.

“Was there something that you wanted, Brahms?”

“Not really. I’ve just been bored and didn’t know where you’ve been lately.”

“Well, I’m rather busy, so if you don’t mind…”

Benjamin nudged Brahms further down the work table as he reached for another tool.  Brahms’s voice dropped and he spoke almost in a whisper. 

_ “Right.” _

Benjamin couldn't hear him leave anymore than when he came.  He continued his work, swallowing heavily and feeling rage at the emotions that were beginning to consume him.  He watched as the wet soil in his hands squeezed out through his fingers. He had never handled it with the ferocity that he felt and it became instantly cathartic.  He reached for a bigger mound and pressed it even harder into his hands, entranced at the debris scattering everywhere.

He didn’t realize the tears beginning to stream down his face.  He brushed his nose against his sleeve, while his hands remained busy being dirtied from the soil.  

Soon he began to sob, picking up the nearest object and hurling it behind him as he spun around to throw it in the distance.  He heard himself let out a loud, strangled cry, screaming obscenities as he continued to throw more things. 

The feelings of relief compounded with anger overtook him and he ran through the greenhouse to the vast space outside.  The glass doors flew open as he pushed through running towards the opening to the forest. He was panting now, feeling the grief of his lost childhood as the images of his parents being murdered played a slideshow in his mind.  

Madelaine coming to his dream triggered rage as he remembered the horrific crime that led to Brahms’s own punity.  At least Emily Cribbs’s family could mourn her death properly. Brahms had no funeral, no remembrance, no anniversary through which those who loved him could reflect on the precious life that was taken.  The retribution of Benjamin taking his hate out on the young girl only led to the sick fate of his best friend’s demise from the world. Brahms suffered at the hands of that consequence while Benjamin flourished, free to grow and mature properly; free to give life to his beloved earth all around him.  His years of nurturing and providing love to his plants helped them to grow and to flourish. The cruel irony was that Brahms could do none of the things that Benjamin should have been imprisoned from ever being able to enjoy again. It sickened him.

He collapsed in the forest onto the wet ground, gasping for air.  The rain that had fallen earlier wet the leaves and dirt, leaving everything soaked and cold.  It was a reprieve from the heat and sweat on Benjamin’s body and he lay on his back splaying out his arms and legs.

His thoughts settled as the hurricane of emotions began to die down, leaving only the debris of sadness and grief.  He pushed his fingers through his hair, the dirt and wet coating his head. 

He continued to lay there with his eyes closed, the wet earth underneath him soaking his clothes.  As he rested his arms over his face, it dawned on him that this was the same spot that Brahms opened up to him about the night of the fire.  

His arms fell back as he stared up to the sky past the great trees that shrouded the light high above.  He reflected on how often he and Brahms had played here, secretly, unable to have any human contact with anyone else while they were together.  He knew that this was no way to live for Brahms. He wondered then if it was even worth turning himself in to the police, confessing his own crime for killing the young girl.  What it would do for the outcome was uncertain. Benjamin would perhaps be sent to jail and Brahms—he didn’t know where he would end up. He was too selfish to find out. Perhaps the prison that Benjamin put him in was a form of control.  If Brahms couldn’t be found, then he couldn’t leave, either. He couldn’t leave him, his best and only friend.

He sighed and closed his eyes at the twisted thought, wondering what could have made him act as if he himself were the one without outside contact with the world.  Indeed, Brahms was more calm and controlled than how Benjamin had ever felt, no matter how hard he tried to exude those traits in his own demeanor.

He brushed his trousers off as he stood, knowing that he needed to return to the greenhouse before anyone could see the remnants of his tirade.


	20. Intermission

_“Your flower will be on display tomorrow evening, should you wish to attend. I started to tell you, but you were indisposed.”_

Brahms’s elegant handwriting belied the sarcasm in his words. Benjamin brushed the note off the worktable, sending a trail of dirt off the long edge. He swept the hair from his forehead aside as he examined the debris scattered around the greenhouse. He grimaced at the broken flower pots and spilled soil that was enough to start a small garden. Tomorrow evening couldn’t come fast enough for him and like a child, he cleaned up his room hoping that his good behavior would be rewarded.

***

The air inside the sitting room was thick with anticipation. The excitement in the hushed voices spread with the promise of a famous local cellist accompanying the evening’s pianist.

Ceres mingled quietly among the guests, standing inside a small group in an attempt to hide from the throng of people everywhere. She glanced around several times, trying subtly not to draw attention to herself and giving away who she was trying to find. She knew too well that another audience would be watching, one that she couldn’t see. It both excited and unnerved her. The pressure from the special performance that evening wound her even tighter as she made a last attempt to glimpse what she knew she could never see anyway.

She took her seat, adjusting her dress and nodding to the older man balancing his cello near her. At that moment she caught the eye of Benjamin who was seated in the crowd nearest her. She glanced at him trying not to seem obvious. His delicate hands were folded clumsily on his lap. The smart wool jacket and posh necktie belied the childlike nervousness in his eyes and slight twitching of his restless fingers. She smiled inwardly, feeling somehow relaxed at his discomfort.

It was the first time she saw him in the context of a crowd of people and her mind began to spin wondering if he still was the same person who poured her the drinks that they shared together. It seemed like a lifetime ago to her.

Her fingers rested on the piano keys as she inhaled deeply, pulling in the energy of the room, back to the night when she felt so alive. She let herself rise and fall with each note and found herself wondering if Brahms was nearby. Her eyes closed and the weight of the room lifted as she imagined only an audience of two watching her.

After the performance, Ceres stood, both exhausted and exhilarated. Her eyes couldn't stay away from Benjamin’s gaze. He clapped quietly with the rest of the crowd, standing out with his reserved demeanor, a shy smile on his face.

When most of the people had dispersed, he was at her side, taking her by surprise when she turned into him and catching her off balance.

“You were very lovely tonight. I enjoyed your performance immensely.”

“Why, thank you. It’s been awhile since I’ve had an accompanist. It sure takes off the pressure when you’re the only one in the spotlight. I rather like blending in as much as I can.”

She smiled wanly.

“I often wish that I could be cloaked in darkness when giving a performance. I play as much for myself as I do for _them_.”

She gestured to the small crowd around them.

“If only I could just sit back and enjoy it as well without the prying eyes.”

She laughed quietly while Benjamin stared at her. She leaned into him and spoke in a whisper, making sure that no one could hear.

“But, where’s Brahms, then? Was he watching, too?”

Benjamin’s tone shifted with his weight and his face stiffened.

“He’s indisposed.”

He moved away slightly, attempting to break the mood.

“Perhaps you like to get some fresh air?”

They walked towards a path that led to the woods surrounding the manor. Outside, crickets were chirping and the evening sky was bathed in dark purples and blues. The air was crisp and cool. Ceres pulled her shrug over her shoulders as they walked deeper into the forest. Benjamin stole glances at her as they moved down the shadowed path.

“Where exactly are you from? 

Ceres giggled quietly.

“If you mean most recently, then that would be just outside of your little village. I’m staying with a lovely old couple as their exchange student. I’m studying at university in Wales, where I’m originally from.”

She bowed her head uneasily.

“Right now, I’m on a bit of a break.”

Benjamin guided her over a large tree limb in the path as they stepped over.

“I’m almost finished, but I needed some time away from everything.”

She paused while adjusting her shawl.

“My family’s rather _intense_. They have every intention of me doing well and making a name for myself once my studies are completed.”

Benjamin rolled his eyes and smiled.

“I know the feeling.”

She smiled, turning her face towards him. The shadows around them danced across his features; his light brown hair reflecting the distant light still peeking down from the sky.

“Do you?”

She stared upwards towards the trees and past the branches that shrouded the sky.

“It’s so beautiful out here in the country. You are so fortunate to be able to live here.”

She glanced at Benjamin who lowered his head, hiding his scowl.

“So what secrets of a dark past do you hold?”

He stared ahead as they strolled, carelessly dragging a long stick along the path.

“I’ve a similar story, I suppose. I’m originally from Poland. My parents tried to immigrate to the UK but—"

He took a quick breath, determined to keep his voice unwavered.

“—they didn't make it.”

He had never told the story before, at least not to anyone but Brahms and certainly not as an adult.

Ceres slowed her walking.

“I ended up in an orphanage after that. It was where the Greenwoods found me. At least, an agency of sorts did. I ended up here shortly after all that happened.”

Ceres had stopped walking and turned to listen to Benjamin.

“Why didn't they make it? How were you spared?”

Her eyes fell and she felt regret for the boldness of the questions.

Benjamin wanted to put her at ease and not let her feel any more uncomfortable than him.

“I don’t know, Ceres. I just never think about it, you know? I loved it here as a child and Brahms—”

He stopped himself and cleared his throat.

“Well, he sort of saved me, I suppose—I suppose—we saved each other.”

They both stood in the middle of the path facing each other with their heads bowed. The skies had blackened and Benjamin took off his jacket to wrap around Ceres. They began to walk back, her shawl now wrapped around her neck and Benjamin’s walking stick leaving a long trail in the dirt behind them.

“And Brahms? What is his story?”

“You’ll have to ask him yourself, Ceres. That’s another night entirely.”

She hummed in thought and they walked back to the manor.

***

Ceres flinched slightly at the brightness of the room after her long walk in the darkness outside. There was still a slight murmur of conversation around her that made her long for the quiet solitude with Benjamin.

 _“Why dear,_ there _you are! Brahms couldn’t retire for the night until he said Goodnight to you!”_

Mrs. Heelshire dangled the doll in front of Ceres. The bittersweet irony was not lost on Ceres who longed to see Brahms himself walk into the room.

“Now dear, don’t be shy. Brahms may seem quiet, but really he’s just a sweet little boy who needs love and affection, just like anyone would. Isn’t that right, my angel?”

Mrs. Heelshire kissed Brahms’s porcelain cheek and handed him to Ceres.

She held the doll in her arms for the first time, feeling timid and awkward. She glanced up at the few guests who had lingered and several of them had stopped what they were doing to stare at the scene before them. Ceres surmised that this may have been a rather rare moment for Brahms and his mother. From what little conversations that she had heard, the two souls never parted. Now she felt both terrified and proud.

She held the boy in her arms peering into his small face so that they were almost facing each other. She traced her thumb over his hand and leaned in, gently whispering in his ear. She lowered her eyes as if listening to his reply and giggled softly.

_“Brahmsy.”_

Mrs. Heelshire beamed as Ceres placed him back to her open arms, lingering as she held him in mid air.

“He’s such a lovely little lad, isn’t he? Always the charmer, aren’t you, my sweet boy?”

Mrs. Heelshire brushed her nose over the doll’s small face and cuddled him tightly, speaking softly in his ear.

“Ceres, dear, you are _always_ a welcome guest in our home. Should you ever wish to visit Brahms or fancy playing your beautiful music for him, he would be delighted by your presence here.”

Ceres smiled and bowed her head, placing her arms over her chest.

“That would be an honour, Mrs. Heelshire. Thank you very much. I shall look forward to that, indeed.”

Mrs. Heelshire clutched the doll’s small arm and waved it gently. 

“Isn’t that _delightful_ , Brahms? Your very own friend.”

Ceres felt an awkward sadness watching the showering of love on the porcelain boy. To never feel what is bestowed on the doll and to watch it from afar for a lifetime was the cruelest form of punishment for a child. She couldn't imagine how Brahms survived the torturous emptiness of love that he never received only to be wasted on an inanimate object. She didn't know if her inside knowledge of the ghost within the walls made her special or simply neurotic.

“We’ve had some rather strange visitors here whom we didn’t recognize. Fortunately, they managed to keep their distance and confined themselves only to the driveway. Use caution if you travel alone, my dear. We wouldn't want anything to happen to any of our guests. 

Ceres froze, remembering in terror the night that they were all almost discovered by The Heelshires. The car that she borrowed from her host family was not one that The Heelshires would have recognized since she was always driven to their events. She made a point to never use it again and would indeed use caution when traveling here alone. It made her feel a pang of sadness, wondering if there were other guests who would have welcomed her company there.

“My dear, Brahms insists that he stay here with you while we’ll be on a small holiday.  Would it trouble you to watch over him until we return?”

Ceres’s mouth went dry and as she attempted to swallow, her tongue choked her words.

“Oh, of course.  Let me check with my host family.  I—I don’t see why it would be a problem.”

Mrs. Heelshire clasped her hands together and motioned to Mr. Heelshire who was standing nearby, somewhat aloof and unaware.

“I do have a rather difficult performance coming up that I do need to prepare for.  Are you sure that it’s alright that I practice here?

“But of course, it is!  Daddy, isn’t it _wonderful_? Brahms is going to have a playdate!”


	21. Rise

Night had fallen after Ceres had arrived at the mansion.  She felt trepidation not knowing what to expect while she would be alone with Brahms.  She had no contact with him since their first encounter, feeling as if Benjamin was the bridge between two separate worlds.  She didn’t know which was real and which one may have been imagined and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of the ethereal thinking of them both.  On the one hand she was completely mystified while in their presence and it felt foreign to be in the strange environment that surrounded them. Another part of her was drawn to it and to them and yearned deep down to explore their puzzling existence, to identify what it was that made their situation so unusual and mystifying.  They were the music that lay beneath the keys on a piano that had yet to be discovered until played.

Ceres followed the implicit instructions given to her by The Heelshires regarding the doll’s routines.  She focused now on the last task, tucking it in for a kiss goodnight. She sat on the edge of his bed, small enough for a young boy, closed his bedtime story and stared quietly into his lifeless eyes.  His small head was laid on the pillow with the covers drawn up to his chin.

_“Snug as a bug in a rug.”_

Ceres spoke to no one in particular, but she smiled nonetheless.  She reached to turn off the small bedside lamp and leaned down to kiss the porcelain boy.

She was starting to enjoy herself alone in the mansion. It was a welcoming feeling to be away from a constant throng of people devoted to watching her perform what she spent long hours pouring her heart into only to give it away.  She often felt bared and exposed in front of the many strangers at her performances. The solitude on this night felt like a reciprocated gift that she could now enjoy.

The evening air was chilly, inviting her to venture underneath the stars that draped over the mansion property.  She had worn her pajamas since earlier that evening and decided on a coat to put over them as she stepped outside. The sky was filled with darkness allowing the light from the stars to shine.  Ceres tipped her head up to gaze as she slowly walked and began to quietly hum a favorite classical tune. She chose a different path than the one that she and Benjamin took, intentionally exploring the mystifying forest around her.  

Her path led to an open field that rose up to an expansive landscape of sky bathed in stars.  She inhaled the beauty of it all and stopped to stare upwards, remembering a favorite childhood poem.

_“...Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,_

_In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,_

_Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.”_

From behind her, the snaps of sticks punctuated the silence.

_“That’s very beautiful.  A connoisseur of Walt Whitman poetry, as well.”_

Brahms stood in the shadows of the forest path with his hands clasped behind his back.  Ceres recognized the slight tilt of his head to the side, as if he was always in a state of pondering.

“Where’ve you been?  I thought that you’d gone away.”

He snickered; a glimmer of light dancing on his teeth.

“No, love.  I will never go anywhere.”

He stepped onto the grassy field and walked slowly towards her, gesturing to the sky.

“But, can you blame me for wanting to be surrounded by all this stunning beauty?”

Ceres looked up again, as if seeing the stars for the first time and felt drunk, her intimate walk and time alone somehow erased and recreated in this new context.

“Beautiful, indeed.  All that’s missing is music to bring it alive.”

The words stumbled out.  She realized that this was the first conversation that the two of them had alone together; first with Benjamin and now with Brahms.  She wondered if the three would ever chance another moment together.

“But, where were you the other evening?  Benjamin told me that you—”

She stopped herself, not knowing if she had gone too far mentioning his friend or their own conversation.

He paused for a moment and walked closer to her, bringing his arms around to lay down the blanket that he had been holding.  

“Please.”

He gestured to the spaces on the quilt and settled next to her, drawing his legs up to his chest and propping his arms on his knees. He remained quiet for several moments while he studied the darkened field that stretched out into the distance while lazily plucking up a blade of grass.

“Yes, I live here.  Much of it has not been by choice, I’m afraid.  I don’t know how much Ben told you from my rather sordid past.”

He hummed in thought as he pulled more pieces of grass from the earth, twirling them between his slender fingers.

“Benjamin and I were very close as children.  I suppose that we still are, despite the intricacies that come with friendships.”

He paused again while reflecting on his words.

“Part of the reason for our closeness was our fondness for things that most children our age had no interest in.  Namely, art. Whether it was Ben’s beloved garden or my queer penchant for drawing, it was still rather odd for our families to have boys who didn’t fit into their societal standards.

He chortled, flinging the balled up pieces of grass from his fingers.

“You see, we didn’t have any friends to really share any of our interests in; just each other.  And that was fine, but with that comes the risk of being exposed to the likes of bullies, if you will.  There was one in particular who was simply incorrigible. Benjamin _loathed_ her.  I mean, _really_ loathed her.”

He looked at Ceres and smiled slyly.

“At my eighth birthday party, if you can call it that—it was all adults and then _us_ —this particular young girl, Emily Cribbs turned up, interrupting us while we were off playing by ourselves and _trying_ to get a moment of peace away from everyone.

“She said some rather awful things to us—you can imagine what could come out the big mouth of a ten-year-old girl.  I suppose that I’ve thicker skin than Ben because it really hurt him.”

He sighed and shifted himself on the blanket, trying to find a comfortable position.  

“He ended up throwing a rock at her, not intending to harm her, just scare her away.  Well, the damn rock hit her on the forehead and she lost her balance, falling backwards onto a boulder that was behind her.  She cracked the back of her skull open and she died.”

Ceres listened with her mouth gaping open.  Brahms paused, lowering his head to stare blankly between his drawn up legs.  She realized the silence and her dry throat, quickly closing her mouth again.

“Our families heard the commotion and rushed over, finding Emily lying on the ground.  I don’t know what compelled me to do what I did next, but it was the most extraordinary experience that I’d ever had and I was terrified that my best friend would be put away somewhere.  I didn’t know how else to react but to take the other rock from Ben’s hand and place it into my own, making it look as if I was the one who threw it.

“Our fates were sealed that afternoon.”

Brahms took a long breath and let it out as he shifted again, stretching out his long legs past the blanket’s edge and onto the grassy field.

“I didn’t see Benjamin for several months.  The Greenwoods whisked him away as everyone waited for the ambulance.  In the meantime, The Heelshires took my fate into their hands and had their own ideas about how to deal with me.  I was told to go into the attic and stay there until I was summoned to come down again.”

He turned and caught Ceres’s eye.

“It was my punishment, you see.

“So, I went and I waited and nothing happened until the fire began.  I smelled the smoke before I saw the fire and by then it was already too late.  

“I remember all of it; the smell, the agony and terror, the glimmer of hope that I would be rescued, that I was a good boy again and my punishment would be over.  Well, the punishment never ended.”

Brahms brushed his cheek to pronounce the immortalized reminder.  Ceres’s eyes followed his movements and the breadth of understanding made her wince with nausea.

“Oh my God.  Your parents did that to you?  They tried to murder their own child?! How _on earth_ did they get away with it?" 

Brahms pressed his palms into the blanket, letting the wetness absorb into it.  After a moment, he bunched the fabric up into his fists.

“Well, I suppose that’s the consequence of their child murdering another.”

He looked at her again.  Her heart quickened when she saw his eyes.  The look was almost smoldering. Behind them she saw old, buried pain that had hardened, but not yet scarred.  She also saw a yearning tenderness. It never occurred to her that the porcelain doll was him or that there was a dramatic relationship between him and The Heelshires.  She searched her mind for him ever calling them his parents.

“Ben’s the only family that I’ve ever truly had.  If unconditional love is what we’ve given each other, then it’s a fine substitute for what my own flesh and blood never provided.

“I’ve never told anyone that story.  No one knows, Ceres. _No one._  It must stay that way.”

He held his gaze as Ceres struggled to find her words.

“Of course... _of course_.  I won’t tell anyone.  I mean, I’ve no one to tell.  I—I have a small sense of your pain.  I feel that perhaps we’re kindred spirits, you and I and Benjamin.”

Her eyes began to burn and she held her face up to the cool wind that blew across them.  As she choked back her tears, she tried to focus on consoling her friend. She wasn’t yet sure what Brahms was and it felt different with him than with her other new friend, Benjamin, but their collective energies fueled something inside of her, something dormant.  It was as if their first encounter had activated an energy that she didn’t know was there.

“Why are you crying, Ceres?”

She blinked hard at her tears and choked as the lump in her throat gave way and she broke.

“I don’t know.  This is just _weird_.  I’m not sure how to process it.”

Her words came out hurriedly.

“Do you parents speak to you?  Do you interact with each other?  What is it like living here? How do they treat you?”

Her recognized the pain and sadness on her face from the few moments he sometimes spent looking at his own in a mirror.

“When I first awoke after the fire, I was alone in a bed in a room that I had never been in before.  I didn’t know where I was. It hurt to move and I was so frightened that I just stayed where I was. I must’ve been in and out of unconsciousness and it seemed like forever before someone came in.  

“My mother finally came when I woke up another time and she somehow managed to help my burns to heal.  As they did, she tried to explain that I was to stay in that room until it was _safe_.  They were just trying to protect me, she said. That protection never stopped and I never left.  

“After some time, they let me back into the rest of the house, but only when they were alone and had no visitors.”

His elbows rested on his knees as he draped his hands over them, unwittingly running them through the long curls on the top of his head.  

“They didn’t tell anyone about me surviving the fire, only that I was in it and that it was accidental.”

“Was it?”

He turned to look at Ceres who was now sitting facing his side on the blanket.

“I don’t know.”

He mumbled and turned away again.

“I suppose that I’ve had some time to think about that, haven’t I?”

He turned away, breathing out a sigh of laughter.

“It doesn’t matter.  What would happen if I had run away to the police?  I would still be in trouble for killing the girl. I chose one prison over the other.”

They both stared ahead of them in silence.  Several moments passed with only the sounds of birds in the trees around them and the wind bending the trees in the deep forest.

Ceres began to rise at last, attempting to brush the stray pieces of grass from her pajama bottoms and coat.

“Here.  Allow me.”

Brahms was already ahead of her, standing over her small frame as he extended his hand for her.

They both stepped off the blanket and Ceres shook it out, handing one edge to Brahms as she folded the other.  He placed it under his arm before reaching out his hand and presenting Ceres an intricate knot made from several blades of grass.  She took it, her face brightening as she stared in the darkness making out the unique artwork.

“That’s so lovely.  Did you make that here?”

He nodded and she smiled, bowing her head slightly.

“Come.  We wouldn’t want the nanny catching a cold.”

She looked up at him laughing.

“Oh, come now.  I am no such thing.  I’m only here for the instruments.”

***

Ceres sat on the large sofa sipping hot tea that she prepared for herself and Brahms, the room filled with classical piano that he had chosen from the music collection.  He came and sat in a large chair next to her, settling his tea and saucer in his lap.

“Which is your favourite piece?”

Brahms took a sip and placed his cup down.

“Classical?  I suppose Chopin. And Linzt.  I do like him.”

Ceres beamed.

“I, as well.  Especially his last piece.  So somber but so beautiful and joyful in parts.  I love the dark and light in music like that. Not everything has to be pretty.  Life is not like that.

"We all have darkness inside. The important thing is to find the light parts and relish them or at least acknowledge them.”

She smoothed a pillow next to her and began to play with a tassel.

“My whole life I’ve felt that I was surrounded by what other people deemed beautiful and perfect and I struggled for years to realize that those didn’t necessarily need to be my standards.  I discovered that the other side of that pretty fantasy world only made the real things inside of me, the not so pretty things, seem bad and dark. In fact, they weren’t. It was alright for me to embrace both parts of myself and I didn’t have to shine a light to anything.  I didn’t have to feel embarrassed or less of a person because I wasn’t like what everyone else wanted me to be.”

She took another sip of her tea and lowered her eyes timidly.

“I'm not sure if that makes any sense.”

She looked over at Brahms who was watching her carefully, a hand on the armchair rest and the other balancing his tea.

“Completely.  I’ve lived in darkness most of my life and it was extremely hard to come to terms with it.  I forgot that there was a lighter side of the world and I saw parts of that world when my parents would bring some of it to our home.  I watched people from behind the walls, observing them and listening to their lives. I knew that I couldn’t be a part of lives like theirs, but I felt that somehow everyone deserved to have it, to have goodness and happiness.  I settled on living with the resolve that my world could still have it; it would just be different.”

He tilted back his head and rested it on the chair as he reached up and ran his fingers through his locks, letting his arm rest on the wing back.

“I suppose that I had to find the light in my darkness and make peace that both elements existed and not just one and that I wasn’t a bad person for living mostly in the darkness.”

He drew his arm back onto the chair and straightened his head to look at Ceres.

“That may seem foreign to you, but perhaps not.”

She placed her cup and saucer onto the table in front of them and leaned back on to the sofa, drawing her knees to her chest.

“Not at all.  I understand. Your story is like a classical music, Brahms.  Most of the music isn’t light and pretty and if you really listen to it and study it, you’ll see that.  The best compositions incorporate _all_ the elements of what happen to tragically exist in your own life.  You truly are your namesake.”

They both laughed and Ceres picked up her pillow and threw it at him lightly.

“Somber man and his tragic namesake.  You know that the real Brahms never had requited love.  He never married and was forced to follow his one true love for most of his life, never to unite with her.  She was _off-limits,_ you see.”

She smiled slyly.

Brahms settled the pillow next to his head, drawing his legs up to the chair and curled his arms over them.

“Well, all the more art to create from his circumstances.”

Ceres smiled, falling gently on her side and placing another pillow beneath her head.

“How fortunate for us all.”

The record had stopped playing and Ceres and Brahms both blinked heavily through their eyelids, sleep slowly drifting in.  

Outside, the wind blew louder, lulling them to sleep as the trees gently shook each leaf off one by one and scattered them to their resting place on the ground.


	22. Drive

Ceres woke to a low, rhythmic sound around her.  She opened her eyes momentarily, trying to place her surroundings and the context of the noise. She closed them, grinning slightly. She waited until the sound of snoring became a little louder and turned her head slowly, examining Brahms’s sleeping position.  Her bare feet moved from the sofa, landing gently on the soft rug as she crawled to him, trying to stifle a giggle.

Brahms stirred slightly and mumbled, a grimace forming on his face as he jerked his leg and shifted his cramped position in the large chair.

She attempted to stay quiet, covering her mouth as her body shook in laughter.

_“Wha?!?!”_

Brahms jerked and stared down at his bare feet, his sleepy eyes narrowing, fixated on Ceres.  She tickled his feet again and howled in laughter as he jumped up and hopped over her.

“You think that’s funny?”

He quipped, attempting to remain serious.

“Well, don’t you?”

Ceres smiled, laying backwards onto the rug as she dangled one leg over the other, swinging it playfully.  Brahms continued to look at her contemptuously, quietly enjoying himself.

“Such a child.  I shall tell The Heelshires that you are neglecting your duties with Brahms.  It’s long past his breakfast time and he _prefers_ a strict schedule.”

Ceres rolled to her stomach, clutching a pillow that rested underneath her head.

“So serious and brooding.  You don’t know how to have any fun. I don’t know how you and Benjamin ever get along.”

_“Sometimes I wonder.”_

Ceres jumped up and ran to where Benjamin stood in the threshold, hugging his neck and twirling around him, singing. _“_

 _Benjamin, Benjamin, Benjamin! Benjamin and Brahms, Benjamin and Brahms_ and Benjamin!”

Brahms chortled from across the room, catching his friend’s eyes as he tried to gleen his mood. Benjamin lowered his head and slowly raised his eyes again to Ceres, his face relaxing and a large smile began to appear.

“But, I haven’t seen you since the other night.  Didn’t you know that I’d be housesitting for The Heelshires?”

Benjamin sneered in laughter, catching Brahms’s eyes and they both smiled at each other from across the room.

“Dear, I wouldn’t call it a _housesitting_.  Mrs. Heelshire has taken a rather strong fancy for you.  She doesn’t allow just anyone near her precious Brahms, much less the porcelain one.”

He looked again at Brahms who was leaning against the wall with his arms clasped behind him, casually watching them with his familiar amused expression.

_“Fiddle-sticks.”_

Ceres turned her head up contemptuously and walked casually towards the stairs, pausing at the bottom step and turning dramatically.

“I’ve a right to put the both of you in a time out.  But for now, I’ve another lesson that I’m going to teach each of you.  It’s long overdue.”

She climbed up the steps one by one and called out behind her.

" _Be ready in half an hour.  We’re going on an outing.”_

Benjamin turned to Brahms from across the room, his nerves beginning to overwhelm him.  He was unsure if his friend was upset over his earlier tantrum and he panicked that he would be left alone, fending for himself with Ceres’s unpredictability.

“What on earth is she doing?”

Brahms caught Benjamin’s stare and raised his eyebrows playfully.

“I’ve no idea.  I suppose that we’ll have to find out.”

He looked down at his ragged trousers and old jumper, kicking a leg out and displaying his bare feet and spread out his arms in dramatic fashion.

“But, Benjamin, whatever shall I wear to our outing?”

Benjamin snickered and rolled his eyes, his heart melting that he still had his only friend in the world.  It allowed his mind to rest momentarily and think about the other new person, not understanding what her motives were and where everyone fit into the puzzle that she was creating.  He longed for control over whatever pieces that she had hidden and didn’t appreciate her careless mischievousness.

“Poppycock.  Brahms, did you hear anything that she said?  She is taking us on an _outing_ .   _Outside_.  Do you understand what that means?”

“It means that I may have to wear loathsome shoes.”

“Are you ever serious?”

Benjamin walked towards him, not realizing how much he missed Brahms’s company.  Each one of his annoying traits made him ache to rekindle their friendship and put it back to where it was before Ceres uprooted it.

  _“Fiddlesticks.”_

Brahms snickered as he walked towards a passage in the wall. “Well, come along then.  We’ve not much time. My chambermaid is still trying to fetch my shoes from the dungeon. ” 

Benjamin had missed rolling his eyes at Brahms.  He couldn’t hold back his smile as he followed him out of the room.

***

“Are we ready then?”

Ceres stood at the bottom of the steps wearing riding trousers and knee-length boots.  A long, red scarf was draped around her neck, covering a loose sweater that hung almost to her knees.

“Did you fly here, my lady?  I don’t recall hearing a bomber plane landing in the fields when you arrived.”

Ceres turned to Brahms and smiled warmly.

“You’re going to wish that you had the proper attire for where I’m taking you.  I’m thrilled that Benjamin can come along and partake in the lesson that I had planned.”  

“Come along then!”

The boys stood on the old stone entranceway while Ceres closed the antique wooden door behind them.

It took several moments for Brahms and Benjamin to close their mouths again while they gaped at the old-fashioned motor car parked in the circular drive.  Pale yellow paint wrapped around the aged frame, exposing the open interior. Ceres hopped over the passenger door and motioned to them.

Benjamin mumbled in a wavering voice.

“She has no idea that you haven’t stepped foot in this direction since your eighth birthday.  Does she?”

He looked at Brahms who was still staring ahead, his eyes wide and apprehension and fear on his face, as if preparing for his flight in the other direction.   Benjamin’s eyes followed him nervously, watching his friend take the first slow steps away from his home into uncharted territory.

“Brahms, you first.  Come around her to the driver’s side.”

Brahms nodded at Ceres as he walked slowly around the car, his long arms at his side and his posture slightly slumped.  Benjamin had never seen him this way and he was both alarmed and bewildered at the change in demeanor.

“Benjamin, you in the back.”

Ceres turned and watched him climb over the frame, delicately balancing himself on one leg as the other swung slowly around to the inside of the car.

Ceres beamed at him front the passenger seat.

“It’s quite fun back there, isn’t it?”

He realized that he hadn’t opened his mouth since the front entrance door had closed.

Brahms struggled to climb into the front seat, his long legs knocking into the steering wheel.  He tried to fold them until his knees caught underneath it and he stumbled backwards on the ground. After several uncoordinated maneuvers, he was finally in, the steering wheel holding his legs down like a stuck lever.

“Now.  Brahms, I want you to follow my instructions as I give them to you.  Everything about driving is order. Once you know the steps, then following them in their order is all that you need to drive successfully.  Ok?”

Benjamin could see Brahms’s face in the rear view mirror, his expression one of sheer terror.  His hands began to sweat for him and he wished that it would’ve been him behind the wheel.

“Right.  Now, the keys are in the ignition.  What I want you to do is to put your fingers from your right hand around them, like this—”

Brahms’s left arm only had room to dangle out of the car’s side while his right hung awkwardly in mid air with nowhere to comfortably land.  She placed her hand over his and gently guided it towards the steering wheel, curling his long fingers over the keys.

“Now we’re going to turn the ignition.  This will start the engine.”

Benjamin watched Ceres from the side, her brows furrowed and eyes focused on Brahms’s every move.  There was an air of childishness to her tone and her gestures almost looked like that of a little girl having a make-believe tea party.

Brahms jumped when he heard the engine sound and pulled his hand away from the keys as if they were on fire.

“That’s all right.  That’s what an engine sounds like.”

Brahms turned to stare at Ceres with indignance until she bowed her head quietly.

“I’m sorry.  Of course you know what an engine sounds like.

“Ok, now place your hands on the steering wheel, like this—”

She moved herself towards him, attempting to push his tall frame aside as she guided each of his arms to the correct positions.  His back pressed in between the seat and the door frame and he was able to turn slightly and catch Benjamin’s eyes. His face had softened and his eyes had the look of a little boy who was given a giant toy car to ride on his birthday.  Benjamin hummed to himself realizing the irony.

“Ready, Brahms?  Now the fun part.”

Brahms shifted his large frame back to the center of his small seat, gazing at his arms on the steering wheel.  He had a baffled look on his face and the sweat from his palms made his hands slide out of their placed position.

“Ok, the important thing to remember here is that your left foot and your right foot shall never press the pedals at the same time.”

Brahms tried to peer down past his legs to his feet and laid back on his seat, resolved at not being able to see them, fearing more confusion.  He laid back again and stared ahead, his entire body stiff.

“When I say go, your right foot will press down on the gas pedal.  But ever so gently. Otherwise, we will fly straight ahead. We don’t want that, do we?”

Ceres laughed as she turned to each of them, only finding blank stares.  She placed her arm on Brahms’s shoulder, catching his eye and softening her expression.

“Brahms, I’ve got you.  I’m right here and I won’t let anything happen to you.  Will you trust me?”

He thought for a moment before nodding his head slowly, his eyes wide, an unknowing pout stuck on his lips.

“K.  Here we go.”

She turned backwards to Benjamin, reaching for his hand and squeezing it, as she gave him a tender smile and his face relaxed.

“Go.”

The old car lurched forward, then stopped as everyone was forced forward in the seats.

“Gently, Brahms. Gently.”

He pressed the gas pedal softer this time and the car crept forward.  It rolled over the gravel, the rocks crunching underneath the tires.

“Good, good.  Just like that.  Now turn your wheel and follow the path around the fountain.”

He turned the steering wheel into the circle of the driveway, precariously trying to remain far enough from the large stone fountain bubbling in the middle.  They crept along at a slow pace until Brahms became more comfortable and a smile spread on his face.

“See?  It’s fun, isn’t it?  You’re a natural.”

Ceres placed her hand gently on his shoulders again in a reassuring touch and leaned back to look at Benjamin who was grinning widely.  She beamed and gazed at Brahms, her smile growing.

_“My boys.”_

After several paths around the circle, Brahms turned the wheel towards the long driveway ahead.  Tall trees lined the road edging up to the wide fields on both sides. A short wooden fence stretched down the path, guiding them farther away.  From behind the car, a steady stream of dust kicked up as they rolled along, sending small pieces of gravel flying.

Ceres laid her head back on her seat, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply.  Benjamin gazed out towards the fields. He felt a sense of familiarity with them, but the frame of reference was different, realizing that he had never seen them from this perspective as he traveled past them.  

He glanced at the rear view mirror and saw Brahms’s eyes still wide, but an expression of wonder filled them.  Benjamin knew that this moment was an unforgettable one for them both. His best friend had never traveled this far from the mansion since he was a child.  And the two of them had never ventured farther than each other’s homes. The shelter and safety of the forest that connected them lacked any distance that could be measured.  Now they were free and the length that were traveling together marked another new journey for them.

The instinct to let go and open himself up began to surge forward and Benjamin pushed the old thoughts of doubt and fear away, using this moment in time to allow to happen whatever needed to. They traveled slowly as he dangled his arm out of the car, feeling the cool air passing through his fingers. The wind caressed his face and he tilted back his head, allowing the breeze to gently blow through his hair as he inhaled the scents around him.  It was a joy to feel his beloved earth come to life away from the stillness of the greenhouse and to enjoy the elements without forcing anything to grow for him.

***

Ceres shrieked loudly from the backseat, her legs kicked up from underneath her as Benjamin flew down the long road again back towards the mansion.

“You are killing me!  What have I created?!”

She screamed again as she gained her bearings, trying to kneel on the backseat and throw her arms up in the air.  Benjamin watched her from the rear view mirror, her laughter and delight radiating from her face. Her braided hair was undone, the wind blowing it wildly around her.  

The sound of her laughter was like his own once.  He remembered the joys of meeting Brahms when he first came into his life, how they needed each other’s companionship, how each raised the other up and held him not knowing how much the other meant to him.  He felt the circle of friendship forming within and around him and wondered if it would make the bond between him and Brahms stronger.

***

The cold grass underneath Brahms’s outstretched arm and bare feet prickled his skin. Ceres lay between him and Benjamin, each surrounded by the thick, warm blanket underneath. The long day had drained them and the slightly cold night air was an elixir, breathing a different life into them. Each gazed in wonderment at the stars above, their eyes sparkling behind heavy lids.  

Ceres would slide closer when it became too cold, instantly melting into the warm bodies next to her.  Her small hands rested on each side of her, both intertwined with theirs, her fingers curling between their gentle grasps. Every so often, she would feel the caress of one's thumb and she would close her eyes, feeling the different textures of the skin.  She reflected on how each of their hands managed to fit so comfortably and securely around hers, even after a small amount of contact was broken.

Their eyes soon closed, one by one while the wind whistled softly through the forest that enveloped them, carrying the sounds of the owls hidden within.  

As each of their bodies began to still, the life of the forest continued to hum in activity, lulling them all to sleep.


	23. Vision

_ A _ cold wind blew from tall trees that towered over Benjamin.  They loomed over the river that surrounded him in the early twilight, lining the long stretch of sidewalk where he stood. A rush of leaves flew down from branches that were nearly bare; he could not tell if it was winter or fall, yet all the foliage looked familiar, the entire setting feeling as if he had been there before.

He turned then to the sounds of voices in a hushed conversation.  A young couple with their backs to him was whispering frantically and nervously looking around.  The female hovered over something on the park bench that they both seemed to be guarding. She retrieved a small coat from a stuffed piece of luggage that seemed ready to burst where it stood on the ground next to them.  

The face of a young boy peered around from the bench, staring in wonder at something behind the couple.  His eyes followed it as the woman was putting the coat on him. Benjamin had a sense that the boy was their son but felt that something was wrong with the scene.  They didn’t belong here.

The wind grew stronger and the dusk around him began to darken.  He followed the couple as they began to walk with the young boy along the sidewalk that stretched into the distance.  Their voices became raised and he watched as the boy would glance quietly upwards at them and then lower his head, his shoulders sagging in the grasp of the hands that held his.

Their walk was long and Benjamin could feel his own legs beginning to shake.  He felt the boy’s concern for his parents and how he didn’t want to be there but was forced to.  His young mind was confused and scared and as his parents continued their journey, he knew that the boy only wanted to go back to his home.

After what seemed like miles of walking, bright lights began to grow in the distance.  The couple began to speak again as they neared its intensity. Benjamin could see several massive light posts at the edge of the sidewalk harshly illuminating what appeared to be military men dressed in black uniform yielding rifles.

The couple stopped and the father began to walk towards the small group ahead of them.  He followed him, curious as to what such a long voyage could’ve been for. As he stood next to the man’s side, he could hear him speaking to one guard in a language that sounded familiar.  He remembered having spoken it before and the more that the men talked with each other, the more he realized that it was Polish, his long-forgotten native tongue.

He heard the father explaining that his papers would allow him and his family to pass through the border.  The guard acquiesced, though hesitantly and Benjamin sensed that he would be in trouble with the other men if he let the family by. He started speaking to the other guard, the conversation triggering chaos and argued with the father to go back unless he wanted trouble.  

Benjamin could sense that one of the guards was a vigilante placed there by the same organization that produced the papers to the father.  The plan to lead the family to freedom had somehow failed when the other two guards caught wind of the scheme; their presence a result of another conspired attempt to plant them there in an effort to uncover potential vigilantes.  

Benjamin’s mind spun as he watched both parents suddenly fall to the ground, the boom of a gunshot muffled in his mind.  His knees shook when he felt the wails from the sobbing child, overwhelming his senses, unable to grasp what he had just witnessed. As the boy crumpled to the ground in terror, Benjamin realized that he was looking at the first moment that his spirit broke. 

He jumped when several more piercing shots rang from behind.  He whirled around seeing the body of the vigilante guard lying on the ground next to the parents as the other two guards walked to the bodies and stood over them, slowly lowering their rifles.

He could no longer tell what was real and if what he was experiencing was a memory in a dream.  Benjamin stood on the sidewalk squeezing his eyes shut and willing himself to wake up. For several moments he felt himself being drawn away from the scene.  He opened his eyes trying to focus on where he was and saw the young couple far ahead surrounded by another light. A figure walked behind them as they moved into a golden hue.  

She turned slowly, almost unrecognizable and as Benjamin felt his tears coming, he willed himself desperately not to wake up.

The strong pressure in his throat had formed an aching knot, his eyes burning and becoming wet.  As they slowly opened, he forced the tears to come at last, streaming down his face at the overwhelming memory and the sickening reality of the event that took him from his parents.

His cheeks were drenched from sobbing and the throbbing in his heart dazed his mind. He clenched his hands into fists not knowing if he was angry that he was forced to see the reality of how his parents died or that Madelaine took them away from him.

***

_ “Oh Daddy, look at that.” _

Mrs. Heelshire paused in the doorway of Brahms’s bedroom, her wiry hands held against her chest as a large, wrinkled smile grew on her face.  She gazed adoringly at Ceres who was lying on the doll’s bed, embracing his small outline tucked under the sheets, a blue pajama collar peeking above the blanket.

The doll stared upwards into space, shrouded by Ceres’s limbs draped heavily over him, his exposed face etched in eternal peacefulness underneath the gripping embrace. 

Mr. Heelshire mumbled as he continued to walk past them.

“Looks like he found his nanny, Mummy.”

Mrs. Heelshire gushed as she walked to the sleeping figures.

_ “My  _ dear  _ angel.  You are a vision.   _

_ “Has Ceres taken good care of you?” _

She leaned over the doll, kissing its forehead, her eyes closing over the tears forming slowly behind them.

Ceres began to stir, then jerked at the body looming over her.

“I’m sorry, darling! I just couldn’t help myself.  The two of you look like sleeping angels.”

She pulled the blanket off the doll slowly as Ceres slid backwards off the bed, standing awkwardly as she smoothed her unbraided hair.

“I’m sorry  —  I didn’t mean for us to sleep in.  

“Brahms had a bad dream.”

Ceres nervously clasped her hands together, studying Mrs. Heelshire’s face as she began to dress the doll.

“That’s all right.  Mummy’s home now, Brahms.  I know that you miss your routine, however much fun you’ve had with Pretty Ceres.”

She looked up at her then with a hint of a pale, almost apprehensive smile on her face.  Ceres’s face relaxed and smiled, walking back slowly towards the bed.

“I’ll be going then, Mrs. Heelshire, unless there’s anything else that you’d like from me.”

Mrs. Heelshire knelt before the doll, smoothing his clothes as he sat on the edge of the bed staring aimlessly behind her.

“It’s time for Music Appreciation.  I know that Brahms would be delighted to hear a live rendering of it.  Perhaps Chopin?”

She looked to Ceres with raised eyebrows.

“Of course.  _ Of course. _ Please just allow me a moment to ready myself.”

***

“My stars, she’s quite the stickler for schedules.”

Ceres sighed as she looked at Brahms with hesitation.

“It’s all that she has.”

He mumbled, twirling a blade of grass around his fingers.  Ceres watched him sitting in stillness next to her, the curls on his forehead moving gently with the breeze that blew the tall grasses around them.

“I just didn’t realize how much she needed that control.”

She paused.

“I suppose that she really misses you.”

Brahms lifted his head and stared ahead for a moment watching the movement across the field as they danced in waves against the wind in the early twilight.  He gazed at her slowly.

“As I said, he’s all that she has.”

She leaned into him, pressing against his arm, watching the blades of grass in his hands twirling into different shapes.  After a moment, she moved closer and rested her head against his shoulder. He freed an arm, releasing a knot of grass, wrapping her gently around him; she picked up the fallen piece and began to twirl it in her hands.

“Brahms?”

“Mmmm?”

He mumbled lazily, reaching up to brush away her hair tickling his chin.

Ceres took a breath in.

“Why won’t you leave?”

She exhaled slowly.

“Don’t you want to get away from here?”

He stiffened against her.

“Of course, I do.  But where would I go?”

He pulled himself away to look at her.

She looked up at him in the half light, reflecting quietly and studying the features on his face.  The shadows of the darkening sky danced across his scars.

“What if you traveled and came back?  Without anyone knowing? Would it matter if they knew?”

Her voice lowered to a whisper.

“How could anyone accuse you of the crime against Emily Cribbs if there is no one to charge?  You don’t exist.”

He looked aimlessly at the fields again. Ceres straightened herself up and moved to his line of sight.

“But you do to me.  And to Benjamin. You’re very much alive to us.

_ “Brahms.” _

She leaned her head closer to his until she caught his eye.

“We know the truth.  The entire truth. And there is no judgement between us.

“We’re friends.  At least, that’s what I’d like to think.  Maybe there’s a reason that we were all brought together.  Maybe there’s a reason everything happened the way that it did, when it did.”

Brahms scoffed.

“That’s a lot of thinking.”

Ceres leaned back on her hands.

“There’re a lot of important reasons to.”

She drew her legs up to her chest and rocked herself slowly.

“You’re important to me.  

“I don’t believe in accidents, the least of all mine or anyone else’s.  So whatever strange, mysterious or odd events brought us all together, I’m going to make the most of it.

“How about you?”

Brahms studied her face for a moment and brushed away the strands of hair covering her eyes.

“Whatever you wish, Goddess of the Fields.”


	24. Séance

“Alright.  Now, does everyone have his supplies?   One candle on each side of him?”

Ceres circled the heavy wooden table, leaning over it and inspecting the arrangements.

“Let’s mind the doilies and keep the wax drippings on them so as to not blemish the wood. It’s far too beautiful to be ruined by our games.”

Brahms chortled from his chair and exchanged a look with Benjamin sitting next to him.  

She reached between them and placed a fat, white pillar candle at the center of the table.  She stood back once again scrutinizing the placements, her expression furrowing as she glared at them both.

“I said don’t move the doilies! Now be mindful, boys!”

Brahms rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

“Please love, let’s get on with it!  We’ve no ghosts in these chambers. We’ve proved that once before.”

“Tsk tsk, my darlings.  This time there is meaning behind our game.  It’s to draw forth the _unknown_ , not the unsuspecting, yes?

“Now, _Séance_ comes from the Old French seoir, _to sit_ . And _that_ is precisely what we shall all do.”  

She took her seat across from them and reached out for their hands forming a circle.  

“So.  Let us all try to clear our heads and open our minds to the energies that surround us.  We wish to communicate with the spirit who has been haunting Benjamin’s dreams. Please come forth now if you have a message for us.”

Brahms drew in a breath, closing his eyes and exhaling loudly through his nose as he tilted his head impatiently towards the ceiling.  Benjamin remained quiet, bowing his head, his shoulders slumping and his eyes squeezed shut, hiding them by his hair.

The dancing light from the candles cast moving shadows on the walls.  They all watched as the flames began to flicker on the edge of dying out, the low light in the room dimming slowly.

From the corner of his eye, Benjamin saw something moving on the floor towards the table.  His eyebrows raised as Ceres and Brahms flinched from the tight squeeze that he gave their hands.

Ceres peered over the table past them and gasped.

_“Where on earth did that cat come from?”_

Brahms whirled around in his seat and stared in disbelief.

_“Marmalade?”_

Benjamin continued to study the cat with a look of amazement, his mouth gaping open.

“Marmalade.  It is you. But, what are you doing here, boy?”

He could hear his voice rise slightly, remembering his youth and the long-lost feeling of carefreeness with his old companion by his side.   His gaze lifted from the floor when another movement caught his eye.

_“Oh.”_

Ceres lowered herself back down in her seat, the whites of her eyes sparkling in the light.

_“Oh my God.”_

Brahms turned completely around in his chair, drawing in a sharp breath before backing himself up to the table.  All three faces looked in the direction of the figure in front of them.

“Hullo, my dears.”

Ceres whispered, her voice shaking.

_“Who’s that?”_

“I’m Madelaine, my sweet. I’m an old friend of Benjamin’s and Brahmsy’s.”

She smiled warmly at Benjamin and nodded gently at Brahms.

“But then, we never truly parted ways.  I’ve always been with each of you, in some way or another.  Even you, Ceres — when your mother couldn’t be.”

She paused and smiled down at the cat, watching him weave around her legs and disappearing through the white hem of her dress.

“You are all my angels.  I want you to know that. Even though you’ve had your separate trials, there is a reason that you all are together.  You will find that out but the important thing is that you each have purpose and you’re not here to suffer at the hands of others.

“I have guided you through every dark moment and helped you through the shadows of those times.  

“You are so, so loved.  Right now, you need it the most — from each other. Don’t be afraid to trust in one another and when you each become separated, dwell only on the ties that bind you together.  Your union is divine, as each of you is, too.”

Brahms shot a look down at his legs where Marmalade’s tail was swishing against him.  He glanced at Ceres and Benjamin who remained still, staring past him, completely transfixed.

Ceres gasped then.

_“She’s gone! Where did she go? She just vanished!”_

Brahms turned back around and saw only the dark, empty space of the room again.  He looked at Benjamin whose frame seemed to have shrunk in his chair, his face ashen and pale.

_“Benjamin.”_

Brahms called out to him when he wouldn’t meet his gaze.  Benjamin blinked and swallowed slowly, his face relaxing as a wave of peace washed over him.

“She never existed.  She was never real, Brahms.

“She was a ghost.  Madelaine was a ghost!”

Brahms furrowed his brow and stared at him.

“What?”

Benjamin looked at him then, meeting his gaze and smiling.

“I don’t know how and perhaps it’s partly because we were just children, but she never worked for The Greenwoods.  She was never hired help. She never even appeared when others were around. Did you ever notice that?”

His expression changed to wonder.

_“Oh my God.”_

Ceres leaned towards the center of the table, hovering near the largest candle.

“What, Benjamin?  What else?”

“Shit.  Brahms, oh my God.”

Ceres half stood in her seat and leaned farther across the table.

“What? What??”

Brahms stared at him, still silent and dazed.

“My parents weren’t murdered because of the Communist regime that tried to keep us from crossing the border.”

He looked at Brahms and paused.

“The Greenwoods were looking for an orphan.”

His face fell and he bowed his head, becoming silent again. Brahms reached out placing his hand on one arm.

“I don’t understand.”

Ceres touched Benjamin’s other arm.

“Do you mean that it was all orchestrated to bring you here just for them?”

Benjamin looked up at last.

“Yes.”

He stared at each of them, his face still and his expression blank.

“I — there were others — others like me.”

His eyes began to fill with tears as he spoke, his voice low and wavering.

“I remember other children where I stayed after they claimed me and placed me into the home.  I didn’t know what was happening. I was so scared.”

He glanced at them both again and drew his eyes to their hands on his arms.  His face slackened and his shoulders relaxed as he drew a breath in and exhaled slowly, closing his eyes.

“The murders were all conspired — of my parents —  of the guard that tried to help us. For every vigilante in the face of that evil regime, there were more around to stop them — at any cost.  And any child casualties were an expendable bonus.”

He sighed, drawing his arms towards him and sliding them under the table. He leaned forward, peering down in front of him, his hair falling over his eyes.

“Benjamin.  It’s ok.”

Ceres was laying across the table, balancing her feet on her chair.  She drew her arms underneath her chest and lowered herself over them until her chin touched her hands.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.  The only thing that matters is that you’re here.  With us.”

He looked up at her and then to Brahms.

“That’s right.  Here and now. The past is gone and the only important things from it were your parents and your time together.”

She rolled her body slightly to the side, beaming up at him from the table. He met her smile.

“Yeah.  That’s right.  And Brahms. Your time with him.  Remember how special that was. And is.”

She looked at Brahms sitting quietly next to them.  He watched her intently, his eyes roving across her face in wonderment. She followed his gaze to her mouth where he tilted his head slightly before moving his eyes upward to hers again.  They stared at one another for a moment before she broke away.

“And Madelaine.  How lucky for you to have known her.  I wish that I had someone like that growing up.”

She stopped herself and swallowed quickly, her voice rising.

“Do you know that she didn’t take your parents from you?”

Benjamin squinted at her as she continued hurriedly.

“She only guided them _away_ — not from you.  But to something else, somewhere else that we know you can’t yet be.”

He pulled his hands up and wiped his wet cheeks with his palms, sniffling as he let out a long breath.

“I suppose.”

Ceres reached for his hand and squeezed it with both of hers.

“There.”

Brahms pushed back his chair and rose from the table, his tall frame slightly bent over as he walked slowly out of the room, his dark curls punctuated over the back of his collar.

He walked quietly along the darkened halls until he reached a passage to a wall.  He climbed up several metal ladders attached to dead end walls, his blind journey navigated with the ease of limited senses.

He emerged into his room, a quiet vortex devoid of sound and filled with air thickened from years of staleness.  He stood at the entrance and looked around the cramped space, his heart dropping when he caught sight of the dying plants along the short stairway, a familiar reminder of the lifetime of constantly broken promises.

He padded up the wooden steps, his bare feet having long since memorized each of the smooth, old planks, their soft creaks piercing the deadened silence and a welcoming sound to the escape just above.  

He reached the top and turned to his work table, pulling the cord that hung from the ceiling and illuminated the tiny space.  He stood over the chair, pushing it closer to the table’s underside and inspected the contents on the top. As he rummaged through colored pencils and assorted drawing pads, he paused, picking up a thick one and flipping open the heavy cover.

His gaze wandered over the first page and he closed his eyes slowly, pausing before turning to the next, his hand lingering over the paper’s edges.  He traced his fingers over the curved lines of charcoal and ached over the abundance of conflicted emotions that had filled a space of only less than a year.  His eyes squeezed shut as tears began to fall over his cheeks and he continued to turn the pages, one by one, his fingers smudged from charcoal.

He glanced up to the wall above the table, full-color memories of his youth pinned against it and the only preserved reminders of a time that could not stretch forever.  The young faces of two boys stared back with lonely eyes and serious expressions. He anguished over how anyone so young could carry such a lifetime of weight in his heart.

He closed the drawing pad and pulled the cord above him, leaving him in the dark to descend the stairs.  His unmade bed felt both welcoming and lonely, its refuge of sleep the only thing more comforting than the indentations of two forms sitting together.

He lay back on it, drawing his long legs with him.  His head turned to the doorway across the room, the line of sight too sharp for the unwelcoming empty space inside the frame.  The ceiling above his bed bore the bitter reminder of years of torturous study that marked the origins of the room. That evening’s discoveries made the history an even more unwelcome agony. 

He closed his eyes and saw himself crumpled on the ground of a fiery room, smoke hiding his small form.  From across the haze, a woman appeared, peering frantically from underneath a thick blanket that covers her head.  She calls his name, dropping to the floor where the smoke hangs in thick, gray sheets. She teeters blindly, stumbling into fallen debris and screams through the fire that tries to catch her.

She nears him and stops to move around a burning beam of wood engulfed in orange flames shooting towards him.  She is above him and removes the blanket from over her head, lifting his body up and wrapping him in it.

He watches as she escapes the fire, clutching his almost lifeless body against her and running to a passageway in the attic’s wall.  She climbs through, coughing and choking. She clears the attic, and lumbers through walls deep inside the mansion.

He stares at his body, having long outgrown the bed that she places him in, his small form limp when she unwraps him from the blanket.  She places him on the bed and he watches her crying hysterically as she clutches his face with her hands, trying to wake him up. He feels pressure on his chest as she rubs him frantically, shaking his arms and burying her face against his neck.

He coughs loudly as he sees himself start to awaken, the smoke clearing his lungs at last and she wails, calling out his name.  As the vision disappears, Brahms watches as his mother vanishes in the same way that she appeared. The young boy on the bed is gone and his own body feels foreign, his long limbs and small bed underneath him disorienting.

He closes his eyes to erase the memory and images of orange flames peirce him from behind his eyes. The smell of smoke still permeates his senses and the scars on his face begin to burn. He rolls to his side, clutching a pillow, wincing at the pain on his cheek and lays for several long, fitful moments before the hurt is too heavy and exhausts his mind and body. 

The surrounding echos of a piano melody begin to fill his mind with the present and of the world that he survived to see. The sounds of boyish laughter comfort him at last, stilling him to sleep.


	25. Charades

The bumpy road jostles Ceres as she speeds through the tree lined path away from the mansion and towards home.  She cursed herself for ever proffering an outlet to Benjamin’s pain to only ignite more for herself. Hot tears stream down her face and she clutches the steering wheel, rocking slowly over the flying gravel.

The majestic, lazy countryside antagonizes the racing memories of dread in her mind; long forgotten images from her youth that she spent a lifetime to make disappear.  Weaving through her thoughts were memories of another face, another presence that became a constant after her mother died and one that she was too blinded with grief to ever acknowledge while she mourned.

Madelaine had never physically appeared in her childhood before, but her presence that night was a culmination of the bits of solace pieced together all at once that she never let herself sit still long enough to experience before.  The woman’s grace, deep attention and comfort without actual touch made Ceres feel as if she was cradled by an angel during her youth. 

She could never share her pain with anyone and never had time.  A father that she never met was replaced by host family after host family when her music studies became her only world.  It was the only relief that she felt and so she threw herself into it. Her mother’s early encouragement and loving support were the foundation that kept the fire burning after her death.  

She had no plans to dredge up this past of hers with her two new friends. They were a welcoming retreat from the consumption of music that now invaded her life, the thing that became its own island from the simple, early retreat that provided temporary relief for her.  Indeed, the last thing that she wanted now was to face that early pain, that early remnant of a girl that she left far behind and far away. She vowed to make this precious time with them more meaningful. She knew from experience that time was a gift that can be taken no matter how abundant or deserved.

***

_ “ _ What _ is that smell?!” _

Brahms padded to the kitchen, wincing, towards the wafting odor that began to permeate the manor’s walls.

“It is stuffed cabbage and it happens to be a staple dish in Eastern Europe.  I made it special for Benjamin — for the happy moments of his childhood.”

Ceres waved off the earnest intention from behind the stove.  She turned quickly around and looked directly at Brahms.

“ — before you.”

Her eyes widened as her hand stopped its motion.

“Where is your shirt?”

Brahms shrugged, unconcerned, as his fingers plucked the old-fashioned tie laying against his bare chest.  

“Well, you said to dress up.  It was all that was from this century in The Heelshire wardrobe.”

He pouted, lowering his head and hunching over.

“I’m wearing a jacket, too.”

After a moment, he lifted his eyes and shuffled to the table, shoving two pieces of French bread into his mouth.

Ceres swallowed hard from where she stood gaping at him, a large spoon dangling from her hand. She whirled back around to the stove, her cheeks hot.

“Wheur ith Benymm, mm?”

She turned again to him, trying to keep her eyes on his face.

“What?”

“I say, where is Benjamin, then?”

“He’ll be here shortly.  I told you both what time, didn’t I?”

She took a deep breath and walked precariously to the other room with the steaming food.

Brahms was behind her, swallowing carefully before he spoke.

“May I help?”

She placed the dish on the dining room table and turned to him, glancing down at his hands holding two more pieces of the loaf. 

“Would you mind very much bringing in the bread?  That is, if you can spare us a few morsels.”

She blinked heavily at his torso again and turned back to the table, busying her hands as she lit the tall candles. 

“May I?”

He was next to her, smiling gently as he took the box of matches from her hand and carefully lit all three pillars; she stood mesmerized by his side, watching each of the flames rising, one by one.  

“Why are you shaking like that?”

He placed the matches on the table and looked at her with concern.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble for him.  It’s not worth the anxiety.”

“I’m not anxious.  I’m just — it’s been an emotional few days, don’t you think?  What with the séance and everything? 

“Now your mother —”

She stopped herself.

“— Mrs. Heelshire insists that I come twice a month to care for the doll.  Where on earth do they go for such extended periods of time?”

Brahms shrugged his shoulders and mumbled as he exhaled.

“Anywhere they can, I suppose.”

_ “Is that what I think it is?!” _

They both turned to Benjamin as he came closer, their faces smiling at his beaming expression.  Ceres approached him, grasping his hands.

“Yes!  Do you like it?  I mean, did you like it when you were a little boy?”

“I didn’t eat it very much, but my parents did.  I recognize that smell anywhere. You know that it will linger long after we we finish.”

He grinned at her and as he caught sight of Brahms’s attire, his eyes widened.

“I say, have you finished dressing or is that tonight’s evening wear?”

“Oh, Bollocks.  Why can’t everyone leave me alone?  Between Ceres taunting my bare feet all the bloody time, now I’m supposed to dress as if I actually leave from here?  It wasn’t like this before she came.”

Brahms sat down at the table and waited for them to sit.  His shoulders rose and fell as he fumed quietly. After a moment, his face changed and he looked up at them slowly, his eyes wide and mouth parted.  

He stood and walked towards Ceres. He took her hands from where they rested on the front of her apron and held them as he looked down at her.

“I’m very sorry.”

He turned then to Benjamin, still holding her hands in his.

“Things have been nothing but better since you came along.”

He bowed his head towards his bare feet.

“You can make fun of me anytime that you wish.”  

He lifted his head and grinned at them both.

“I rather like it, even when  _ you  _ drove me crazy with it all of these years. One needs some humour and less seriousness sometimes, in order to get by.”

He glanced down at Ceres again.

“My, but your palms are quite sweaty.

“Shall we eat, then?”

***

Brahms wandered from the kitchen towards the sound of a familiar piano melody.  He leaned against the threshold watching Ceres.

“That’s a violin concerto.  I’ve never heard it played on a piano.”

She turned her head halfway while she continued to play.

“A new perspective can make anything extraordinary.”

He approached and sat down by her side on the bench, watching her fingers move across the keys.  Benjamin stood in the doorway, a dish towel over his shoulder. After a few moments, he moved closer to them and sat on Ceres’s other side.

She slowed her playing and lifted Brahms’s hand where it rested in his lap.  He lowered his head to watch as she gently placed his fingers over a few keys, her small hand barely covering his and guided him slowly through the chords. When he was able to play on his own, she reached for Benjamin’s hand, showing him the higher notes.  

Satisfied with their rhythm after some time, she joined them and continued the ballad, until they each played it out to its completion and sat back with grinning faces.  Benjamin turned slightly in his seat to face them, careful not to fall off the edge.

“I’ve always wanted to learn piano.  That was so marvelous!”

Ceres turned to Brahms who was having trouble balancing on his edge of the seat, his long legs cramped under the piano.  He smiled widely at her as she placed her arms around them both, squeezing them towards her so as not to fall.

“Let’s continue the fun.  Where do the Heelshires keep the playing cards?”

***

Brahms mumbled to Benjamin through a yawn.

“It’s your draw.”

“It’s been Ceres’s draw for ten minutes.”

“Well then, where is she?”

They both rose and wandered separately through various rooms, turning lights off and on until they reached the last on the topmost level of the mansion.  They looked at each other in wonder.

“Do you suppose that she’s left?”

Brahms shook his head.

“No.  Her car is still parked out front.”

“Well, where on earth could she be?  You don’t think that she’s hurt?”

Benjamin’s face fell at his own suggestion.  From below, the faint sound of piano music interrupted their thoughts.  They both looked at each other before sprinting downstairs. They froze in their tracks when they saw the doll sitting at the piano, surrounded by silence.

Benjamin looked at Brahms, his face turning white.  Brahms stared back with an expression that Benjamin couldn’t ever recall seeing on his adult face; the sight before them was as alarming as his unusual, frightened reaction.

Brahms walked closer to the doll, his hands clenched at his sides and his feet almost creeping over the rug.  He reached the bench and stopped, peering carefully around the side to see the doll’s face. 

Benjamin followed quietly behind him and stood with hesitation on the other side.  He looked at Brahms’s ashen face, their eyes meeting in scared confusion. From the hallway, they heard giggles and the sound of running feet.  Their expressions softened as they ran towards the sound, each taking different paths as Brahms shouted.

_ “Ceres!  That’s not funny! _

_ “For this, you’re going to Hoover everything, including the drapes to get your cabbage stench out!” _

Benjamin snickered at Brahms’s disgust and attempt to bely the terror from only moments ago. He rounded a corner, still smiling when he bumped into him.

“Did you find her?”

A few strands of Brahms’s dark curls stuck to his damp forehead, punctuated by his shirtless appearance.  Benjamin backed away instinctively, stealing the quickened moment from the chaos to unknowingly glance at his torso and the rising and falling of his chest from panting. 

He recognized his familiar scent of sweat mixed with the musk that was only his, something that he had grown used to and which now, as he raised his eyes upward, seemed to be coming from someone else entirely.

His eyes briefly caught Brahms’s as he saw him swallow quickly.  They looked awkwardly at each other, both fidgeting to move around one another.  Brahms shrugged his wide shoulders, bowing his head as he spoke.

“No. I haven’t seen her.”

His eyes darted to Benjamin’s.

“Have you?”

_ “Where are you?!” _

From some distance away, they both heard Ceres’s shout.  They exchanged looks again, their faces slacking as they grinned.

_ “I have been waiting an  _ eternity  _ for you both.  Time is precious here and we’ve no room for silly games.   _

_ “Now.  I’ve lost track of whose turn it is.” _

Ceres lay back on the thick rug, crossing her ankles and rested her head on a large pillow.  She held her cards to her chest, staring over them and hiding her smile.

“You are intolerably cheeky, madam.  I shall have to tell Mrs. Heelshire,  _ yet again, _ what a nuisance you are around here and what trouble Brahms has been causing as a result of your ineptitude at caring for him.”

She rolled her eyes at Brahms and began to laugh.

“Oh, please.  I don’t think that she would much care to come home and find me Hoovering the drapes.

“And  _ you  _ — with your tie!”

She continued laughing as she drew in her arms, clutching herself in a small fit of hysterics, scattering her cards everywhere. Benjamin and Brahms looked at each other in disbelief, grins slowly appearing on their faces.  

Ceres rolled to her other side, as she attempted to focus her eyes on Brahms.  She buried her head in the rug as he watched her with widened eyes. 

“I’m so sorry!  But of all the things that you could have worn tonight — a  _ tie. _ _ Just  _ a tie?!”

He walked over to where she lay and sat down calmly in an armchair.  She stopped laughing when there was no response and saw him sitting next to her.  She stared at him and Benjamin who moved from his spot in the doorway to lie down on the sofa near them.  Brahms addressed her with a serious expression.

“I wore a jacket.

“Now. I want you to march upstairs and find something to wear out of  _ Mr. _ Heelshire’s wardrobe.”

Ceres’s face fell and she looked at them both again.

“What?”

Brahms didn’t flinch, keeping his deadpan stare on her.

“If you think that it’s so easy to pick and choose from anything here, try and start with clothes first.  Go on. Straightaway.”

She rose, huffing as she did, mumbling to herself as she left the room.

Brahms giggled quietly at Benjamin as he called after her.

_ “What’s that?  You can’t believe  _ MY  _ nerve?” _

Benjamin lay down on the sofa, curling his hands under his chin and smiled.  They sat in anticipated silence, only exchanging glances and grins between each other.  After some time, they heard the familiar sound of padding feet.

Ceres stood in the half lit doorway against the shadowy hallway, her strawberry hair illuminated and spilling over the dark jacket that was swallowing her small frame.  Benjamin saw Brahms gulping and turned around to pop his head over the sofa towards her. She stepped forward between them both and Brahms cocked his head and sneered.

“Where are the rest of your clothes?”

She glanced down at her bare knees peeking out from the long men’s undershorts.  She looked up at him with slight contempt.

“Well, if that’s your way of making a point…”

Benjamin giggled to himself.

“Well, in her defence, she is wearing a vest underneath the dinner jacket.”

Brahms shot him a sharp look.

“But no proper shirt!”

Ceres walked casually to the sofa and sat next to Benjamin, crossing her legs as she pulled the long jacket taught over the tank top.  She smiled demurely at him and Brahms.

“Now that my dare is completed, it’s time for the both of yours.”

She crossed her arms and leaned backwards, sinking into the sofa and almost toppling over the jacket’s tails.

Brahms’s fingers danced over his tie, playing with the edges slowly, his eyes glinting as he watched her.  Benjamin lay back, his hands clasped on his lap and tilted his head sideways to study her.

“Now.  I want one of you to decide who gets to go upstairs and find something formidable to put on from  _ Mrs.  _ Heelshire’s wardrobe.”

Benjamin stood up.

“I’ll go.  It seems that I’m the only one dressed properly.”

He grinned at Brahms, winking as he turned to leave the room.  Ceres looked down, smiling to herself as she smoothed her ruffled shorts.

“It seems that we’re all getting educated on social graces and tact all at the same time.”

She crossed her arms and looked across the room past Brahms’s smiling face.  She mumbled some more under her breath.

_ “Honestly.” _

Brahms’s head still rested on the back of his chair and as he closed his eyes, he smiled to himself as she continued to vent.  After some moments, she glanced at him when he covered his face with both hands, hiding laughter. She swerved around, her jacket catching underneath her, exposing the thin fabric  underneath it. She struggled to adjust herself and gaze at Benjamin walking towards them in a long dress.

He stood awkwardly, scratching the lace collar around his neck.  The long sleeves ended near his elbows and the floor length hem stopped above his knees.  Ceres’s eyes caught his center, where the dress gathered tightly around his waist and his hands were clenched together over his groin.  He fidgeted to stay balanced while looking down at the floor; a bare foot tried scratching at the lace that skimmed a knee.

“Well, Mrs. Heelshire never looked that becoming wearing a frock.  I must say, it brings out the bright colour of your pretty cheeks, Benjamin.”

“Oh poppycock on you.”

Benjamin turned towards the sofa, glancing down at Ceres’s nearly exposed chest.  His eyes widened and he tripped slightly sitting down next to her. He caught Brahms's eyes who stared back with raised eyebrows and a grin.

She drew her jacket tighter around her, furrowing her expression as she cursed under her breath.  Brahms leaned towards her from his armchair, still smiling, his arms dangling over his knees as his fingers played with the tie.

“What’s that again?  The bloody jacket is too  _ uncomfortable _ ?  My goodness.  Our selection of clothing is limited to half a century ago, so it should still suffice for comfort  _ and  _ convenience.”

She glared at him.

“Shut up. Come here.”

He let the tie fall against his chest and stood up, walking over to her as she made room for him at her other side.  She gestured to his jacket and waved her hand.

“Take that thing off.” 

Brahms stilled and looked at her for a moment before obeying and began to loosen his tie.

Ceres gentled her expression.

“Not that.  _ That _ .

He stared with a hidden vulnerability, determined to maintain eye contact and preserve his composure.  He slowly peeled off the jacket, sliding it down his back and arms and placing it on the sofa’s armrest.  

She swallowed as she watched his movements, her head slightly lowered and eyes barely raised.  Benjamin peered around her trying to read Brahms’s expression. 

She stood and began maneuvering his legs onto the sofa.  Benjamin stared down at them when they had nowhere to go except his lap.  Ceres lifted a leg and sat down, placing her hands on his chest as she pushed him back gently against the armrest.  

She turned herself towards Benjamin and nudged him to the other end of the sofa facing away from her.  He shifted uncomfortably, bunching the tight fabric between his unmoving legs in an attempt to bend his knees.

With enough space between them, she slid off her jacket, letting it pool on the floor.  She tugged on the thick blanket from the sofa’s back, draping it over her chest and slowly leaned back against Brahms.  His breath hitched when he felt her settling between his legs, before she raised slightly forward to gently pull Benjamin towards them.  

They all three lay holding their breaths for several moments until Ceres exhaled, her voice wavering as she spoke.  

“Now.  Isn’t this more comfortable?” 

Her whole body shook as Brahms laughed underneath her.

“Yes.  And just look how long it has taken to discover.”

She touched Benjamin’s bare foot with her own.

“And look. Now we’re all just the same.”

She slid her arms down to reach for his, holding them and squeezed him gently.  She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, their bodies rising and falling together.

“When I was young, my mother became very ill and she died.  I was just a little girl and don’t have very many memories of her, but it devastated our family.”

Brahms relaxed at her voice against him, his body sinking deeper into the sofa, the soft fabric above the dress’s hem touching his legs.

“Go on.”

Benjamin turned his head slightly upward at Ceres before he settled back against her.

“I was raised by an extremely strict father.  My siblings were older and got on somewhat better than me, but my father beat it in me to be the best that I could be at all times.  I didn’t have a normal childhood with birthdays and friends. My time was filled studies and books and libraries. 

“In a way, it was a nice escape.  I discovered that I had somewhat of a talent for music —”

She was jostled by Brahms’s laughter underneath and smiled to herself, squeezing Benjamin tighter.  He moved his arms over hers, circling her embrace.

“— so music was my all.  Everything. It’s all that I have today.  

“Well —”

She tipped her head back and smiled upside down at Brahms. She pulled in his arms from his sides, curling them over her. One hand rested on him while the other moved into Benjamin’s hair, slowly exploring its soft texture as it fell through her fingers, reminding her of their times in the fields outside.

“— not everything.  

“I finally was able to escape a few years ago with the promise that I would spend the rest of my life studying this supposed God-given talent.  The other condition was that I was to always stay with a host family. 

“My future seems laid out at the hands of others and all my life I’ve felt this rigidity in my lack of choices.  I never knew who I really was or what I wanted to do. I mean, it’s obvious, I suppose, but at my core, I’m something else — I’m someone else, not just a product of my environment.”

She stilled her movements and remained quiet for a moment.  Brahms’s hand found its way into her hair where he softly unraveled it, his fingers weaving through the strands as he watched them fall across his chest.

“I do have dreams, as I’m sure that each of you do, too.  It’s very hard sometimes to see beyond your own world and that can often stop one from looking at what lies ahead.

“My last request to you is that I dare you both to dream — as big as you can — and in your mind’s eye, cast a net as wide as you are able to throw it, until you’re pulled into seeing where it lands.”

She leaned over Benjamin slightly and peered towards his face before she turned around to Brahms and nudged him.

“Can you each do that?”

“For you, anything.”

Ceres grasped Benjamin's hands.  

“Not for me, lovely.  For  _ you _ .”

They lay quietly in the room, now darkened from nightfall.  After some time, they each stirred and shifted positions, their limbs becoming restless.  Ceres nudged Benjamin up, pulling her legs out from underneath him. She twisted her body around to face Brahms, their eyes locking.  His dark curls spilled across his forehead and she stared intently at a stray that covered an eyebrow. She lowered herself slowly onto his chest, resting her cheek against it and curling her arm under her chin.  

Benjamin turned to lay across her bottom, wrapping his arms around her side and settling his head against her lower back.  Cere stared back up at Brahms and reached for the stray curl, intertwining it with her fingers. She pulled at it gently and watched as it bounced back making his eyes squint and his lips form into a slight smile.  She lay her head back down and moved her fingers further into his soft hair and smelling his skin underneath her.

His chest had begun to rise and fall rapidly and she could feel his heart beating loudly against her.  She squeezed him closer to her and raised her head up to nestle against his neck. His arm reached in to her back and he began to stroke it softly, drawing circles as his fingers brushed Benjamin’s hair through the motion.  He felt Benjamin grasp his arm, settling his warm hand against it and holding it in place so as not to break the touch.

_ “Your asth ith thois thofsoft. _

Ceres peered around to Benjamin.

“What?”

He cleared his throat as he lifted his head.

“Your arse is so soft.”

He settled back down against her and squeezed her sides again, his hand still on Brahms’s arm. The sofa shook from their laughter and Ceres had to lift herself up to keep from being bounced. They stilled again, until their breaths calmed and began to rise and fall in unison. 

Brahms’s hand glided down from her hair to her face as he began to slowly caress her skin, tracing his delicate fingers against her cheek and across her forehead.

He pulled her sleepy face towards him and lowered his lips to her forehead.

_ “Sweet dreams.” _


	26. Dreams

Ceres lay across Brahms’s chest, her arms splayed on either side of his neck.  She awoke with her cheek wet against his chest and drool pressed between them. She felt a hard bump against her thigh and moved slightly only to feel it again as she shifted.  She rolled to her side against the couch and looked down.

_“Oh.”_

She drew in a breath and exhaled sharply, looking up at Brahms’s sleeping face and peered down again at the tent in his trousers.  It contradicted the rest of his peaceful form, his chest gently rising and falling, his breathing soft and slow.

She slid over him and gently nudged Benjamin, his hand curled under his chin.  As she stood, his head fell gently against Brahms’s thigh. She stifled her laughter watching him trying to adjust his movements wearing the tight dress.

She continued to stare, entranced while Benjamin rolled slowly against the sofa, moaning softly as his other arm began to move underneath him.  She followed her gaze back to Brahms, forgetting to blink at the bulge in his trousers, still evident. Her mouth fell open as he lay unaware, his face turned towards her as he slept.  

Ceres swallowed, unsure of whether to hide or stay.  She turned and walked slowly backwards towards the hallway, pausing with each step and peering over the back of the couch until the sound of Benjamin’s heavy breathing couldn't be heard.

Brahms began to stir, his breath deepening as he reached down to his trousers.  He opened his eyes when he felt the warmth on his thigh and the shifting around him.  He stared down at Benjamin grinding against his legs, his head pressed hard into him. He stirred to pull himself away as Benjamin stopped, his head darting upward.  Their eyes met and he buried his face back against him, sighing loudly.

“She arouses me so, Brahms.”

 Brahms pressed back into the sofa, closing his eyes while his hand continued its movements.  Benjamin let out a longer breath as another moan escaped his lips. He turned his head up to Brahms, his cheek still pressed against his thigh, breathing heavily.  They exchanged another look between them as Brahms’s hand ventured underneath his trousers and increased its movements. Benjamin leaned his head back slightly, holding their gaze, his breath becoming erratic.  Brahms could feel the heat on his skin through the material.

They moved in unison as they squirmed against each other, their eyes clenching shut in time to their hands working faster. They looked at one another again, beads of sweat forming on their faces as Benjamin moved his head to wipe it against Brahms’s thigh.

Brahms brushed the messy curls away from his eyes and let his hand fall down to touch Benjamin’s hair before clenching it tightly.  Benjamin gasped, flipping his body upwards, crying sharply and yanking the dress above his hips as he shook through his release.

Brahms watched him collapse against him while he continued to clutch his hair.  As his back arched, he jerked his hips upwards through a moaning shout, pulling Benjamin towards him in his tight grip as he exhaled deeply.

They both lay in silence as their panting slowed, their eyes closing and their bodies beginning to slowly rise up and down together.  Brahms spoke through half closed eyes.

“What is your dream?”

Benjamin laughed gently into his leg, exhaling a shaky sigh.

“I think that you know.

“What is yours?”

Benjamin rolled over to look up at him wonderingly as Brahms sank his head backwards and closed his eyes again.

“To live happily ever after.”

Benjamin stayed silent for several moments, contemplating his words.

“With her?”

Brahms opened his eyes slowly and looked at Benjamin for a few seconds, his mouth in a small scowl.  Benjamin raised his eyebrows.

“With _us_?”

Brahms shifted his body and pulled his hand from his trousers, wiping himself off.  He lifted himself up as Benjamin moved to his knees, peeling the dress up over his head.  Brahms watched wide eyed as he crumpled the dress to his middle and wiped himself before standing up, still holding it over him.

“You do know that was my mother’s frock.”

Benjamin walked towards the hallway, the morning light illuminating his bare bottom.

“Yes. It was.”

***

_“Brahms!”_

Benjamin stood at the kitchen threshold clutching the doorway as Brahms approached him from behind.

They both stared at the doll sitting at the table with a plate of food in front of it.  Brahms walked closer to the several other dishes that surrounded it, leaning over and peering inquisitively at the breakfast items while glancing sideways at the doll.

Benjamin stopped at the doll’s side, squinting at a card propped up against his plate.

“There’s a note here.”

Brahms walked over, his cheeks stuffed with food.

“Whuths iths sthay?”

_ mes trésors, après votre fête, retrouvez-moi sous les étoiles _

_ xoxo, C. _

They both read the words intently and leaned away, smiling.  Brahms beamed to himself as he gaped at the rest of the food.  

“Well a feast, it certainly is.”

Benjamin looked at him furtively, scrutinizing the tie still around his naked chest and the stained trousers that hung low on his hips.

“Aren’t you going to get washed up?”

Brahms stared back at him, pushing a large muffin into his mouth.  He eyed Benjamin’s naked body with only a crumpled up dress covering his front and smiled through his full mouth.

“Ain you? Thaths not propah dininn atthigh?”

Benjamin rolled his eyes to the ceiling.  

“Not proper attire?  For dining? Right.”

He tossed aside the frock and stook naked against the table, reaching past the doll for food.  Brahms laughed as pieces of muffin flew from his mouth and drew his hand up to cover his face. Benjamin pulled up a silver plate cover and pushed a fork into the eggs underneath.  He leered at Brahms, gesturing to his discolored trousers.

“It’s disgusting to eat like that.”

He placed more bites of food in his mouth as he watched him from the corner of his eye.  Brahms gripped an apple between his teeth as he unzipped his trousers and let them fall to the floor.  He stepped out of them and continued eating, raising his eyebrows slightly as he tilted his head at him.

They both leaned across from each other on opposite sides of the table grazing on the food.  The doll sat expressionless as Brahms reached for his uneaten, perfectly peeled pear.

***

The late morning sun flickered through the ancient oak trees casting shadows and light where Ceres lay deep in the grassy field.  Her arms criss crossed behind her head cradling it against the soft ground. She peered up to watch the familiar tall figures coming towards her knee deep in the high grass that had swallowed her.  She understood the meaning of their pace. She, too, knew what it felt like when walking was too slow, but running would have been too obvious.

She reveled in the way that the sun reflected so differently on their hair.  The light danced on the honey brown color, turning it into golden gossamer; the unruly, dark curls glimmered in the light next to it.  Ceres’s heart swelled watching them come closer to her.

They paused when they approached, looking around in confused amazement at the assortment before them.  Ceres looked at them both as she wrung her hands together.

“I gathered all that I could from your greenhouse and I didn’t know what kind of medium or tools you use for your drawings, but I took a guess and bought you some fresh supplies.

“I just wanted to see you both doing what you enjoy.  Together.

“I do hope that you like them.”

The doll lay next to her staring up into the sky.  Brahms chuckled, motioning to it.

“And what lucky fortune might he have to play with?”

Ceres winked up at him.

“Me.”

She lay back on her hands, squinting up at them and smiling in the sunlight. They stared at each other in giddy excitement as Ceres watched them begin to explore their treasures.

***

The late afternoon sun dropped over the horizon.  Brahms lay with his head propped up on a crumpled up blanket, his drawing pad on his raised knees.  He paused for long moments, staring out into the distance, his smudged fingers resting around the charcoal in his hand.  He studied Ceres intensely as he drew, his hands sometimes idle for long periods of time while he stared down at her sleeping in the grass.

Benjamin sat nearby, his legs sprawled out in front of him with several pots filled with fresh dirt and colorful flowers.  They caught each other’s eyes from time to time brightening each other’s faces, both unknowingly feeling the same joy from their earlier childhoods.

***

Ceres stirred, rubbing her eyes while looking around.  Brahms was sitting next to her, his cheeks full as his mouth moved around the food still in his hand.  She giggled softly at him.

“I see that you found lunch.”

Benjamin stood over him, leaning his head on his shoulder as he turned to her smiling.

“Brahms will find food the way a physicist will find nuclear matter.”

He laughed at his joke, careening backwards. Brahms rolled his eyes, his mouth chewing slowly around his stuffed cheeks.  Ceres tilted her head at him and began to laugh to herself.

“You know, come to think of it, he’s always resembled a little chipmunk.

“Well, a six foot chipmunk with lovely feet and curly hair and green eyes. 

“And voice.”

Benjamin stood with his hands in his pockets and took a few steps closer to Brahms. 

"And delicious hair.  Yes?"

She laughed.

"Yes! I could eat it with a large spoon."

He bent over his shoulder, leaning against him until their faces nearly touched. He turned towards his cheek and pressed a deep kiss against the scars, their bodies leaning towards the ground.

Brahms swallowed, his other cheek turning red.  He stared up at them both and mumbled to Benjamin.

“I thought she was your favourite flower.”

Benjamin pulled a hand out of one pocket and grasped a mop of Brahms’s hair, pulling it upward.

“Yes, but you’re my favourite weed.”

Ceres jumped up suddenly and ran towards the woods, her arms spread wide against the tall grass.  Benjamin yelled after her.

“What are you doing?!”

She turned halfway, her hair blowing wildly around her.

“Playing!”

Benjamin steadied himself against Brahms, shoving him playfully to his side as he stood.  He pressed him further down and jumped over him, sprinting towards the woods.

“Get back here!”

Brahms crawled quickly, trying to stand up as he shouted into the distance.

_“You better not let me catch either one of you!”_

From within the forest, Ceres’s voice cried out.

_“Promise?!”_

She howled in laughter.

_“Benjamin and Brahms and Brahms and Benjamin!_

_“They’ll never catch me!”_


	27. Catch

Ceres panted with laughter as she steadied herself against a tree to catch her breath. She had tried to find the darkest corner of the forest to hide, loving her secret game. She leaned back her head with a long sigh, closing her eyes and reveling in the quiet that surrounded her.

She felt warm breathing on her head and slowly opened her eyes to find Brahms’s towering frame bent over her, the sunlight behind him framing his broad shoulders and wavy mane of curls. His grinning face studied her expression intently.

“I told you that you’d better not let me catch you.”

She was overcome by how astonishing his eyes were. The intense, dark brows and lashes framed the deep hazel against the dark green forest light. She felt mesmerized, as if a door had swung open and pulled her inside leaving her heart speeding wildly.

She stole the moment, continuing to gaze at the rest of his sharp features and letting her eyes travel over the smooth skin on his unburned cheek. The shadowed outline of a beard on his chiseled jaw sparked an image of him shaving, the intimate moment by himself making her pulse race even faster. His gaze met hers, contemplating her expression as their eyes began to slowly wander over each other’s faces.

Her stare drifted upward to his forehead where his dark, untamed curls rested, the hidden amber brown illuminated by the sunlight streaming down from the trees. She instinctively reached up to pull on a lock of hair, watching it spring back up.

“You like to do that, don’t you?”

She caught his eyes staring down at her and swallowed nervously, drawing her arms behind her against the tree.

“I’m sorry, but I do. You are hopelessly adorable.

“Both of you.

“Each of you.”

She winced at the awkwardness of her words. _When had she ever complimented two people’s looks at the same time, in the same breath, at the same moment?_

Brahms moved closer and straddled her with his arms above her head. She raised her eyebrows at him.

“Will you hold it against me?’

He took another step, bending down to press his forehead against hers and resting his elbows on either side of the tree.

“I desire nothing more than to hold myself against you.”

She gulped and forgot to breathe, hearing his deep, smooth voice as if for the first time, his accent lingering in her ear. She clenched her hands and pushed back as far as the tree would allow. He straightened himself before resting softly on her, their bodies both tight against the tree and her view now confined to his broad chest. Her skin tingled against the warmth from his belly and she closed her eyes, breathing him in, overtaken by his scent, a mix of forest and his own masculine smell permeating her senses and sending sparks to each nerve in her body.

She stared up at him again while he stood still against her, swallowing nervously as his gaze dropped from her eyes and rested on her lips. The vulnerability on his face opened something inside of her and she instinctively touched his scarred cheek with a shaky hand, remembering their first encounter in the dark music room. His eyes wandered over her face as she gently caressed the scars, her fingers tracing careful paths over the deep crevices and lines that separated the tender skin surrounding them and felt drawn into the old pain, yearning then to erase it forever.

He closed his eyes as his shoulders dropped, sighing a warm breath against her fingers. She watched his expression change as he leaned deep into her touch, moving his mouth closer to her hand. His face flushed, deepening the wan shade of red on his thin, delicate lips, before parting them to breathe in her scent. He felt her stroking his other cheek and pressed into the soft skin of her palm, lingering in her touch. Her fluid strokes continued, never breaking as she trailed her fingers to his forehead, brushing past his curls.

Brahms stilled in her hands, their connection reverberating through him as they spoke silently through each other’s touch. Their chests fell and rose in unison against each other, the intimacy between them overpowering her emotions, the unexpected tenderness shattering her heart.

He closed the tiny space between them, absorbing her warmth and almost tasting her skin. She shuddered when his face gently brushed against her cheek, his softness nearly breaking her. Their foreheads touched as he peered down to her, his eyes questioning her and beckoning. As she raised up to look at him, the sounds of the forest seemed to completely still, time ceasing in that instant.

His mouth opened slightly as he ran his tongue over his lips before capturing hers and pressing deeply, a soft whine escaping his throat. Her tender face against his skin stopped his breath, almost overwhelming the kiss. She sealed her lips onto his, moaning softly as she inhaled his warm musk through her nose. His mouth pressed deeper, his fingers curling into her back, enticed by the friction of her blouse against her skin. She whimpered slightly through their touch, knees shaking, and pushed harder against him, her hands seizing his waist while her restless fingers rubbed against his shirt, eager to feel underneath it. He groaned, pressing his hips harder into her, his wet palms clasped behind her back, keeping her tight against him.

They both startled at the sound of twigs breaking and Ceres turned around to see Benjamin watching them quietly behind the tree. The childlike stare on his face betrayed the lustful restlessness scratching at the surface, his impatient want rising. He caught Brahms’s smoldering gaze and stepped closer until he was pulled by his shirt, stumbling into them. Ceres touched her fingers to his flushed cheek, his sharp jawline almost a contradiction against his delicate face. His nervousness dissolved in her hand and the boyish look of worry and wonder returned to the warm, chestnut eyes, the sun lighting them up to a bright amber.

She gripped the banded collar of his shirt and pulled him in quickly, pressing her face against his neck and smelling the sweet scent of wild grass on his skin. He caught her eyes before lunging forward, crushing his lips eagerly onto hers, the fragrance of her skin making him drunk, his senses consumed with craving to taste her completely. His hand found its way up the back of her soaked blouse, brushing against Brahms’s fingers.

Brahms watched her lips move against Benjamin’s, the now sore tightness inside his trousers making standing difficult. He weaved his fingers into the soft waves of her ginger hair, groaning softly. An electric impulse ran through his body when he felt something touching the front of his trousers. He inhaled sharply after he looked down to see Benjamin’s hand brushing against him. He twitched, his head becoming light and dizzy as he steadied himself against the tree trying to focus on the grasp gently tightening around him.

Ceres pushed against Benjamin again and moaned into his mouth, moving one arm up towards the back of his head, her fingers on his soft, brown hair while she fumbled to reach for Brahms with the other. Their movements danced in rhythm with each other, pulling and pushing, tugging and pressing, their hands grasping what skin was within reach, their mouths covering one another after each gasp of breath. She panted harder with each stroke of their smooth fingers as they glided underneath her blouse, the feeling of both of their hands on her skin invading her senses completely. Her hands were woven through Benjamin’s hair, grasping the back of his head tightly as she came up for air, the kiss taking away her breath.

She threw her head back against the tree and began to slide down, her legs shaking. She panted through half-lidded eyes, turning slowly towards Brahms who was now groaning loudly next to her with his eyes squeezed shut. She lowered her face and stared breathlessly at Benjamin’s hand on Brahms’s now full erection jutting against his trousers.

She sighed, mumbling in Welsh, her face flushing as she watched with wide eyes. Brahms held himself against her, crouched slightly against the tree, trying to stand. His eyes barely opened when he caught her gaze and slid his long, slender fingers around her waist, clenching her skin and pulling her to him.

She watched Benjamin skillfully touching Brahms through his trousers, never once opening them. It enticed her to no end to see the contact with no skin between them, imagining Brahms’s sensations and thrilling her with a lustful ache. He began to moan louder, sending sparks through her as she felt his body begin to crumple against her.

She peered down and watched Benjamin push him through to his release until she felt him collapse on her, moaning in her ear. As he stilled next to her, she grasped his hand gently and pushed it underneath the band of his trousers. She panted as she held his hand in the warm fluid against his skin, wrapping his fingers around his release until his palms were coated.

She reached for Benjamin’s trousers and moved Brahms’s soiled hand inside, gripping his erection and coating it completely. She lingered while he began to slowly move his fingers against him, enjoying the warmth and sensual contact between their skin against each other. She leaned into Benjamin’s face, placing kisses on him as he moaned against them both. She pulled out her hand from his trousers when Brahms’s grip became tighter and his movements faster. She moaned against Benjamin’s neck when he drew her closer to him, groaning breathlessly in her ear.

Brahms’s grasp around her waist tightened as his hand worked faster on Benjamin. Their bodies moved with each other, swaying and pushing against the tree until Benjamin’s loud cry broke their wordless sounds. They both collapsed against her, chests heaving and sweat trickling down their necks. Ceres let her head fall back against the tree as they all began to catch their breaths. She sighed loudly and laughed to herself. Benjamin raised his head from her shoulder and peered at her while Brahms stared at them grinning. They each began to laugh together, their voices ringing through the forest.

She raised the front of her blouse and placed each of their stained hands against her skin, closing her eyes as they massaged her belly. She took a deep breath and sighed again, sliding her tongue over her lips. Brahms leaned in and placed a kiss on her mouth before continuing to pepper her skin gently with his lips. Benjamin buried his face under her ear, placing kisses along her neck, traveling up her jaw before covering the rest of her face with them.

She stared at them, her head still leaned back and pulled their shirt collars towards one another until they stood facing each other. Benjamin buried his head on Brahms’s chest and nudged himself against him as Brahms lowered his face and nestled against his neck, both pressing against each other and sighing softly. Brahms peered down to catch Benjamin’s eyes and slipped a kiss on the corner of his lips making Benjamin's legs buckle slightly before he pressed his lips back against Brahms, .

Ceres watched their lips first opening to each other and the slow, rhythmic movements of their jaws as their mouths explored one another. Dark curls and brown strands lay damp against the soft skin of their slender necks. She drowned herself in the sounds of them both moaning softly through their kiss, the intimacy almost overtaking her. They broke their kiss and looked at each other with flushed faces. Benjamin regarded Brahms with small laughter.

“I never noticed how good you actually smelled underneath the sweat and dirt.”

Brahms stared back at him with hazy eyes, his voice husky.

“Who knew how skilled those gardening hands actually were?

They both turned to Ceres and pulled her close against them. Brahms’s eyes widened as he examined the tears pooling in her eyes.

“But, why the tears?”

She clutched their shirts and pressed against Benjamin’s chest, the tiny hairs above his collar tickling her face.

“Because you are both impossible.”

Benjamin lowered his head, gently lifting her face with careful fingers and smiled softly at her.

“You make it impossible for us.”

She laughed suddenly as she sniffled through the teardrops falling down her face and let herself be squeezed against them both, burying herself in their warmth and intoxicating scents. She sighed, quietly whispering against the muffle of their shirts.

_“I adore you._

_“I adore you_.”


	28. Release

“Will these soft fields of exquisite wild grass native to these parts of our Beloved Kingdom be a suitable pallette of comfort upon which the Queen may rest?”

Ceres smiled smugly against Benjamin’s face as she squeezed her arms tighter around his neck.  He shifted his weight, bouncing her slightly as he stood holding her in his arms. She turned towards the fields and surveyed them with animated distaste.

“They shall do — for now.”

She grabbed Brahms’s arm as he strode past, regarding him with a twinkle in her eyes.

“ _But_ — they aren’t _proper_ bedchambers for a lady, or for that matter, any of her _suitors_.”

She kept herself pressed closely against Benjamin’s hold as she slid slowly down from his arms.  She grinned up at him, watching his face change as she taunted him. Before she could stand, Brahms swooped in, grabbing her tightly by her waist and spinning her around until her laughter turned to gasps for air.

They landed on the ground surrounded by drawings and scattered pots of soil before rolling onto their backs, inching closer to each other as they watched the late sun begin to set.

“I’m hungry — and cold.  We should make our way back.  Brahmsy hasn't had his afternoon tea.

_“My poor darling.”_

Ceres lifted up her head and regarded the doll sprawled out on a tiny nest of golden grass, tall blades shooting up from all sides and imprisoning his small body.  She turned back into Brahms and lay her head into the crook of his shoulder, curling her hand underneath her chin. Benjamin rolled onto Brahms’s chest, covering him with his leg and draping his arm over them both.  Brahms lazily played with their hair, weaving his hands into Ceres’s waves while stroking Benjamin’s soft strands between his fingers, the gentle massages against their scalps lulling each of them.

“Yes.  We should return, I suppose, shouldn’t we?”

Ceres’s heart fluttered at Brahms’s soft, deep voice.  She was certain that if her sense of hearing were to ever leave, she would barter with the devil to just allow his and Benjamin’s voices through. She abruptly mumbled out loud.

_“I could spend the rest of my days with you.”_

Both bodies next to her stiffened after her words.  Benjamin lifted his head to face Brahms as they exchanged a look between themselves before smiling sheepishly at each other.  He lay his head back down and wrapped his leg tighter around Brahms.

Ceres’s eyes closed, the brimming tears that had gathered releasing an unseen drop before disappearing quickly into Brahms’s shirt.  She nestled further into the pit of his arm, aching to be absorbed into his warm skin and solid chest. She opened her eyes to the feathering warmth of Benjamin’s fingers stroking her face and stared at him softly across Brahms’s chest.  Her hand uncurled and reached for him, weaving her fingers gently through his and caressing his skin slowly with her thumb. She exhaled a shaky breath at the thought of time being an elixir and a poison. It was the thing necessary to bring life to moments that were never long enough and the thing that killed them when it would eventually run out.

***

The sound of shuffling outside the kitchen pricked up Mrs. Heelshire’s ears as she stood over the sink.  She peered around the table where she stood, squinting in confusion outside the door. Her eyebrows furrowed deeply and her pulse raced hard at the tall figure that flashed out of sight behind Benjamin and Ceres.

“Oh!  Mrs. Heelshire!  I didn’t realize that you’d be back!”

She regarded them both with mild disdain, eyeing the doll in Ceres’s tight grip.

“How long has he been outdoors?  And what on earth is that in the freezer?  It has the most vile smell.”

Ceres blushed and regarded her with apologetic eyes.

“I’m so sorry about that.  It was my mother’s recipe and I just wanted to make it special for Benjamin’s birthday.”

“More than half of it is gone, dear.  Did you have a large party here to help you eat it?”

Ceres felt the blood drain from her face as she stared dumbfounded at Mrs. Heelshire’s shrewd expression.

“You know Brahms’s appetite, Mrs. Heelshire.  Ceres made extra for him.”

Benjamin grasped the doll’s tiny hand and shook it gently as he leaned towards his face to give him a sweet smile.

“Where on earth did you get those sunburns on your skin?  Brahms is very sensitive in too much sun. His time outdoors must really be monitored.  I thought that I made that abundantly clear when I entrusted you with him.”

She walked abruptly over to Ceres and lifted the doll from her before cradling it and cooing in its ear as she inspected the exposed porcelain near its short trousers and shirt.  Ceres and Benjamin exchanged nervous glances as he pressed a tote bag tightly against the front of his soiled trousers.

“Well, nevermind.  There are much more important things to talk about.”

She turned to Ceres, her expression beaming.

“Congratulations are in order, my dear. We’ve _just_ heard the news from your family. ”

Ceres stared in confusion.

“Pardon?”

“You’ve been accepted!  You’re going to music conservatoire!”

She raised the doll’s arm and bounced him on her hip.

“Isn’t it _wonderful_ , Brahms?  Our very own concert pianist! Oh, we’ll have to wait in line just to have her ever perform for us again!”

She laughed and twirled with the doll as she left the kitchen and stopped at the entrance to turn around.

“Oh, please do make room in your calendar for a celebratory dinner here next Saturday.  We must see you one last time before you leave. It’s much too soon and no time for proper goodbyes.  

“Isn’t that right, Brahms?  Whatever will we do without our favourite Welsh nanny?”

She chuckled and continued down the hallway leaving an astonished Ceres to stand in the middle of the kitchen, her throat thick and unable to swallow the news.  She hung her head and stared at her bare feet as her shoulders began to shake softly, the bags still in her hand tapping the floor.

Benjamin approached her from behind and rested his arm against her back.  She turned quickly towards him, bowing her head against his chest, her shoulders drooping. They both raised their heads when they heard the sounds of thuds moving away from behind the walls of the kitchen. Benjamin turned to her again, regarding her quietly and emptied her hands slowly. He brushed away her tears with the back of his fingers and spoke in a low, gentle voice.

 “I think that it’s safe to say he escaped just in time and she didn’t see him.

“What does this mean, Ceres?  When were you going to tell us that you were leaving?”

She pressed her forehead against his chest, nervously tugging at a spot on his shirt where she let out a shaky sigh.

“It seems that I’ve been neglecting my studies in order to get accepted into the conservatoire in Wales.  

My family’s been rather disappointed in my lack of interest lately with attending.”

She lowered her voice and murmured softly against him.

“This year has been — _overwhelming_ — and I suppose that I’ve had more on my mind than my music.”

She drew in a shaky breath and found a dry spot on his shirt to lean against.

“I still love my music.  It’s all that I’ve ever had.  But everyone wants me to _be_ something — something that is more than I am. It’s not fair.  But then, it is.

“It’s the least that I can do for this gift that I have and for the people that want me to enjoy it and actually put it to use, really.”

“But you _are_ putting it to use.  You already make so many people happy with your playing.  It’s incredible! How can that not be enough?”

“Because, Benjamin.  It’s not enough for _them_ .  It doesn’t matter what I want.  I just want to live a simple life with my hands on my keys and not feel pressure to constantly _perform_ — like a doll.”

She stepped back and lifted his hands in front of them.

“You have a gift, too and you get to enjoy it.  We both know what it is to have the skill of creativity _literally_ at our fingertips.  I wake up every day, my hands aching and tingling to play.  It’s like this powerful urge to transform them or channel them somewhere else.  With piano, I’m able to let the electricity that’s inside of me _out_.

“Your magic gardening hands —”

She stopped and blushed immediately before quickly continuing.

“— they work the same way.  I know how it feels for you to be outside in that electric force that surrounds you everyday.  You’re compelled to do something, tend to something, plant something, pull something, _touch_ something.  It’s our gift and our curse to have passion in our hearts and not be able to use it the way that we want to, isn’t it?”

She lowered her voice again and spoke with lament.

“And Brahms’s, too, I suppose.”

She turned to leave the kitchen and walked towards the front entrance way.

“I have to go.  It’s late. I haven’t been home in what seems like months.

“I need to make plans that I should’ve made ages ago.”

She stopped in her tracks and began to turn around before pausing, her own words stinging in her ears.

_“Goodbye.”_

Benjamin felt himself sinking to the floor where he stood.  

***

The longest week of their lives brought the worst Saturday that Benjamin could ever have dreaded; an empty sense of excitement was now upon him.  He pitied to himself that matters were even worse since Brahms wouldn’t get to say goodbye on her last night there; the party was to be held at The Greenwoods, perhaps as an embarrassing attempt to save face for the lack of invitations extended; a standing one could serve as an exchange for a bid farewell, should the local celebrity become a national one and want to return to their hospitable home.

At last the end had come when the guests began to appear.  Benjamin hung back behind the crowd, sullen and withdrawn, the sound of drivel in their voices irritating him under his skin.  Ceres’s arrival sparked old memories of his life and Brahms’s when they experienced their first clandestine meeting.

Tonight, however, she was dressed in gold and Benjamin secretly admired how she lit up like a yellow bud in the first rays of sunlight.  Her grace and charm could bring a light spell to any room and yet she had room in her heart for the darkness that she had surely never known until her time spent with them.

He ached double fold.  Brahms couldn’t share this moment with them and it drove home the forgotten reality of each of their places in the world.  For all of Benjamin’s skillful talent at sowing and Brahms’s unwitting ability to exude dark charm, their fate was here and always would be.  A dim spark inside of him wanted the best life and the most things possible for Ceres but he knew that would never include the likes of him and Brahms.   _How could it?_

 _“That was a_ marvelous _meal!”_

The lighthearted mood of the guests made his heart sink back to the floor where it had been until Ceres lifted it when she arrived just a few hours ago.  It felt as if an hourglass of sand had now turned over marking the halfway point of the evening back to the time for mourning that would once again be upon him after she left.

He tried his best to concentrate on everyone else’s reason for the occasion, but couldn’t.  They hadn’t known Ceres the way that he and Brahms had. They hadn’t even known Brahms’s very _existence_.  He began to wonder if their time together had even been real.  The atmosphere in the room, the liveliness and animated conversations; all of these things were a reminder to Benjamin that the one whose precious existence didn’t matter and who craved the chance to mean something to the world really had no place at all in the land of the living. The bitter irony of it made him question his own existence and why life was even worth living when the priceless chance of feeling the most alive had now been killed.

Ceres mingled with the guests, continuing to glance sideways at Benjamin as he averted his eyes.  She was holding the doll and speaking to Mrs. Heelshire, surrounded by a few remaining guests.

“My dear, you simply must come to visit during breaks in your studies.”

Ceres regarded Mrs. Heelshire with a faint smile.

“I don’t know that my schedule will allow that, ma’am.  It’s an extremely rigorous programme and I plan on continuing my studies through the summer.  Four years is an awful long time to be gone.”

Benjamin snorted loudly before he sheepishly watched the guests nearest to him turn halfway around and stare quizzingly at him.  She continued after pausing slightly.

“Perhaps I can complete my studies in two years.  Time will tell. I do want so much to stay close to home.  This is where I belong.”

Benjamin’s head reeled at the irony of her words.  If she truly knew where she belonged, it wouldn’t be in a place where someone wasn’t welcome.  He sulked inside at the ease by which she was able to choose how long she wanted for something to take.  Time was both a luxury and a curse for him, depending on its context, but it was never a commodity to bend as one pleased.  What would a lifetime of imprisonment offer when the term was fulfilled? He pressed his lips together to contain the emotions before they showed on his face.

“I should _very much_ like to marry Brahms one day.  Perhaps when he’s older.”

_“WHAT?”_

Ceres met his gaze, her mouth frozen with interrupted words.  The guests in front of him now turned around fully to stare, regarding him like the loathed drunk at a party, bantering in the back of the room.  He in fact felt like one for completely missing the important points in the drone of conversation. He cursed himself for being so obtrusive, completely lacking a filter with his emotions.  

“Oh!  My darling!  How splendid that would be!”

Mrs. Heelshire gushed as she held the doll on her lap.  She beamed up at Ceres who was now smiling radiantly at them.   _Not a hint of sarcasm in her voice._ Benjamin’s hands curled into fists.   _Now she’s going to play a really sick game at our expense._  He could take no more and turned away from the crowd, slipping outside to fresh air so that he could cool his thoughts and reign in his emotions.

He ran past the trail around the gardens where he and Ceres had first spoken in great lengths with each other.  His eyes burned as he kept running towards the open fields. He stopped at the end of the path, panting while he stared out into the moonlit distance; the wild grass swayed against the quiet wind, their illuminated tops creating soft patterns against the changing directions.

Benjamin thought of their first time together laying in the middle of that field, their three bodies close and hands all intertwined.  The lump ached in his throat as he tried to swallow around it. He dropped to his knees and sat back on his heels, letting the wind blow straight through him.

***

Ceres meandered her way through the tunnels, trying to remember the fine details of every twist and turn inside the dusty walls.  She felt around in the dark, her hands already dirty after the first touch against them. She grinned softly at how Brahms always managed to keep the dirt off of his skin.  He saved that for his clothes. She chortled loudly and stopped herself. The Heelshires would be arriving back home soon though she knew that she didn’t exist where she was at the moment.  She hummed at her words, furrowing her brows at the sad truth behind them. This was but a mere visit, not a lifetime spent in a ghosted existence.

She arrived at the door at last, the quiet warmth of pitch black enveloping her on all sides. Only a push against its invisible frame would reveal that there was another side.  She peered into the quiet room, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness before stepping forward, the swish of her dress breaking the heavy silence. A few careful steps would lead her to her destination straight ahead.

She stood at the side of the bed, only the dim red of a nearby appliance light distinguishing the messy curls in front of her.  She could tell that he was watching her from his position when she saw the silhouette of his body lying on his side with his head raised up towards her.  She could also feel his hurt as she gingerly reached out her arm and slowly lowered herself on the bed.

_“Brahms?”_

He slid back towards the wall on the side of the bed, making what little room there was for her.  Her dress puffed out at her knees as she bent down, slipping off her shoes. She swung her bare legs up, laying quietly on her side facing away from him trembling slightly from nervousness she didn’t know she had.  She had never felt more comfortable with two people in her entire life and this act of intimacy was no different, though it felt raw and too exposed, somehow incomplete.

She drew in a shaky breath and sighed out as quietly as she could.  From behind her an arm snaked around her waist and drew her in, closing the space between them.  She melted into his warm body, closing her eyes in the darkness, needing suddenly to be nearer still.  His skin, his nearly threadbare linens, his worn pillow, his _room_ .  There were very few things that Brahms possessed, but these belonged to him, holding his essence, his memory imprinted in the room, _him_.

He kept himself wrapped tightly around her as they both held their breaths.  Finally, she felt a warm sigh against her neck that made her entire body shiver.  She curled his hand under her chin and squeezed it, immersed in his quiet tenderness.  Every muscle in her body sank into him as she relaxed, becoming completely absorbed in the ease and simplicity of their snug embrace.  

Their breaths became shallow as she lay against him counting the rhythm of their heartbeats together until they were in unison.  She wanted to be inside that heartbeat and to feel him, absolutely. She waited until his breathing was deep and steady before she rose gently from his arms.  He tightened his grasp around her waist suddenly, pulling her back to him. She furrowed her brows, her heart already in pieces. She scolded herself for not having the strength now to leave with the broken remnants.

He rolled her over quickly until she was lying completely on top of him with his arms swung around her, holding her in place.  Their breaths quickened as they paused with unsurety, their hearts beating wildly against each other. She thrilled at the different sensations of his hard chest rising and falling underneath her body and the soft warmth of his belly leading down to the hardness in his groin.

He flipped her onto her back then, pinning himself on top of her.  She gasped before the shock turned to excitement and then into a hungry ache.  He hovered inches from her face, breathing heat onto her before pressing his eager mouth impulsively over hers.  She moaned into the kiss as they rocked slowly together in sensual rhythm, the sound of their lips on each other filling her with aching excitement.

The salty sweetness of his skin filled her with a want to drink him in completely, savoring every bit of his mouth on hers and tasting him even more. She parted her lips, inviting him in until their tongues found each other and began exploring tentatively, then playfully before the dance became furious. She released her arms from under him and threw them around his neck, pulling him hard against her and clawing her fingers through his messy hair.

She whined at the excitement she felt from his hips as they rocked against her uncontrollably, electrifying her senses.  His large shoulders and strong arms planted themselves firmly at her sides as his body circled and swayed, pressing harder and impatiently grinding against her thigh.  

Ceres slid her fingers underneath the tail of his shirt, moaning instantly at the softness of his bare skin.  Brahms pushed his tongue deeper inside her, his wet mouth enticing her to reach farther as she glided her palms along the muscles of his back, exploring all that she could.  Her hands slipped down his sides where she pushed him gently off of her and against the wall behind him. He groaned as she slid her body against his and dragged her hand down the front of his shirt before slipping underneath again.  

He nuzzled against her neck while she touched every bit of his torso that she could reach, yearning to be nearer.  He moaned in her ear as her soft hands dipped and turned over his skin and glided through the sensitive parts of his hair causing shivers through him.  His muscles contracted softly against her touch as she glided lower.

Her hand reached for his as she carefully slid them both underneath his shorts.  She gently pushed her fingers underneath his until his hand covered hers completely and they both grasped his erection together.  He flinched, jumping slightly and began to whine into her neck, his hot breath and wet mouth tonguing her skin. She relished the shared sensation of him throbbing and hard in both of their hands and the intimate, sheer rawness of the moment, exposed, unraveling.

She could barely breathe, unable to grasp that she was touching him, realizing just how much she yearned to be this close to Brahms. She let his fingers guide her, losing herself completely to the sacredness of being shown the exact touches shared between him and his own body.  She knew the time would come when they would share those sacred touches again with Benjamin and all would know the secrets of how to share them with each other.

She pulled her hand away and found his, guiding it towards her to push her dress up, exposing her bare thigh.  She could feel his hand shaking against her and she kissed his face before moving to his neck and sucking gently as he whined into her mouth.

His fingertips wandered gingerly over her thighs, tracing her skin with delicate touches before his palm grasped her flesh tightly, all the while panting warm breaths against her cheek. She nuzzled against his neck, tracing wet kisses to his jaw and ear, the sensation of his scars against her mouth making her heart flip, the intensity of emotions ready to erupt.

Brahms slowly dipped his hand between her thighs, gasping at the warmth.  He trailed his fingers higher towards her crotch as Ceres whined against him, her hips jutting forward into his hand.  He traced his fingers along her skin until he reached her panties, becoming dizzy when he felt the warm dampness through the fabric.  His hand froze as he choked a sigh and moaned against her neck before moving deeper. She guided him to push down her panties, gasping at his first touch before releasing him to slowly explore.

_“Oh my God, Ceres.”_

She whimpered against Brahms’s ears, her body shivering, as she teared up at the thought of his hand touching the innermost part of herself. After several moments of enjoying his soft fingertips slowly wandering, she helped him focus on making soft, slow circles against her.  

She eagerly moved her hand back to his shorts, focusing with fierce pleasure on the strokes that he had shown her, grasping him softly in her hand and pumping slowly until she could hear the pleasure overtake his moans.  She knows that any touch was enough to send him over the edge, but she craved to give him the touch that he deserved, one filled with mutual fervency and the unbridled want that she felt for him. Their strokes continue as they move and learn each other’s bodies, their hips guiding each other’s hands through the pulsing of their cores against each other.  

_“Fuck!”_

Brahms whines loudly as he jerks and cries out, throbbing as he comes in her waiting hand. Ceres kneads his balls, holding him gently in her hands as he comes down, savoring him throbbing in her hand. He lets out a tiny laugh as he sighs a strong breath, still shaking through his release.  

He gasps when he feels her fingers inches away from his mouth as she rubs them on her parted lips and tongue, delighting in his taste.  She lowers them down to his hand, gently circling them against his and smearing his come throughout her folds while their fingers begin to slide in sync together.  Her hips start to gyrate and roll against him while he continues to rub her as she cries against his neck.

_“Brahms!”_

He twitches at the sound of his name, completely savoring the word rolling magically from her lips. He hears her curses in the language that he can’t understand as he moves her through her shaking release.  She falls to her side, almost rolling backwards off the bed, her senses spent. He stills against her as he covers his mouth with her essense, feeling the slick against his lips and inhaling until his lungs fill completely.  He pulls her back against him, finding her lips and kissing her lavishly, as she keens against his tongue moving deeply and with surety inside her.

Their foreheads rest together as they lay facing each other in the dark.  Both mirror each other’s touches, tracing to memory each nuance, dip and curve of a nose, a cheek, a brow, each curve of a lip.  Their eyes flutter closed in the dark as their fingers settle next to the other’s face. Ceres waits for the shallow breaths against her skin signaling her goodbye.  Brahms catches her once more as she rises before he brings her back down towards him, whining softly.

_“Kiss.”_

She leans forward and firmly plants her lips on his and lingers, taking in the last scent of his breath with her.

“Share this.”

Brahms lay next to the warm spot that she had left, placing his wide hands against the small indentations and absorbing her imprint.  He drew the pillow that they shared back under his head, the wetness from her tears now cold. He buried his nose into what was left of her fragrance, of — as he tried in vain to inhale — _her_.  His own tears soon followed, swirling together with hers and  culminating into the essence of a stained memory all their own.


	29. Song to the Moon *

The air was sullen in Benjamin’s sitting room, but a far cry from the oppressive reminder of Ceres and their memories just yards away at The Heelshires. Brahms had regressed to his old unkempt self, shuffling around and pouting more than talking. It was a useless attempt for Benjamin to try and change his mood when his was not much better. They both suffered the same sadness and felt the same dejected hopelessness that their first love was leaving them; for how long was of unimportance; her time away was a permanent death sentence to them.

Benjamin had tried to look on the bright side of things, pulling as many tricks out of his hat that he could in order to move them physically closer to Ceres. No amount of skilled digging in the pliable earth of his mind seemed to cultivate a solution. He had thought for so long that if he ever did make his way to civilization, he couldn’t live with the blame that Brahms took for his murder of Emily Cribbs. He would fall for Brahms against the sharpest sword when the time came to expose his friend’s authenticity.

“I’m a murderer.”

Brahms listened quietly to the plots and schemes that were spilling out from Benjamin’s reeling head, unable to to be contained any longer. He heard him speak of his old demons that had trapped him in a corner with no warning or welcome, haunting him with a life of anguished mental imprisonment. There was no way out, as he saw it. The weight of Benjamin’s murderous confession would still mean a tortured life in prison for one or the other, the resulting difference measured by a righteous choice of blame either taken or given.

“People go to prison for crimes that they didn’t commit.”

Benjamin offered a feigned attempt to justify his friend’s implausible innocence to the outside world. He looked finally at Brahms’s calm face, the irony of his words stinging. His repentance would never erase the choice of imprisonment that Brahms made for himself; both of their fates were determined and the only thing that would truly right his wrongs would be to somehow match the time that Brahms had already served for him.

He dropped his anguished stare to the floor, tightly fisting his hands at his sides. He watched with bowed head as Brahms stepped towards him and paused before reaching his smooth fingers towards his and slowly lacing them through into a gentle hold.

“You’re my best mate, remember?”

The voice that Benjamin remembered as a child had changed and grown deeper through their years together. The eternal bond between them had changed and grown as well. His mind plagued him with questions. _How would there be time to let a new kind of love grow between them when a lifetime wasn’t enough? There was no time to continue cultivating what they had begun to sow together; the circle that had started was now already broken._

Brahms tilted to the side to catch Benjamin’s eyes until they could look at each other.

“ _Remember_.”

The soft, breathy tone washed through Benjamin like the first rain on new soil and at last he felt grounded. He kept his head lowered when he stepped closer to Brahms and rested his forehead against the comfort of his chest. The warm breath on the back of his neck tingled everywhere. They both stood motionless until he turned his head sideways and shyly rolled his gaze upward, resting on Brahms’s shoulder as he stared at him awkwardly.

Brahms peered down at him trying to hide a grin. Benjamin’s heart opened; the expression that he’d seen so many times before was different now. His mind couldn’t wrap around the new context of the old smile and how often it always came with Brahms’s affectionate and mischievous ways. Something broke open this time and the tiny grin became theirs alone to claim, another first for them among the many that they’ve experienced thus far. _Would everything familiar now become strange and new?_

Brahms raised a finger to the middle of Benjamin’s worried brows.

“So serious. Always ruminating.”

His eyes fell on Benjamin’s and they looked quietly at one another, each feeling the other’s pounding chest. Brahms’s gaze wandered over Benjamin’s face, studying each feature as carefully as possible as if for the very first time in his life. And indeed, Benjamin felt, it was. The most exotic flower that he could have ever possessed had grown right next to them and within the new circle, brought them together all over again. Ceres had unknowingly guided them to new territory for them to all explore. It was uncharted, frightening, reckless and it thrilled Benjamin to the core. He truly didn’t feel alone this time.

Benjamin felt Brahms’s gaze on his mouth, his lips tingling in anticipation. He held his breath when Brahms's face leaned in, his parted lips ghosting his cheek. Cool fingers lifted his chin and the press of Brahms’s soft, inexperienced kiss came again at last. His breath quickened, thrilled in knowing that it was only his second attempt. How the first couldn’t be enough made his legs weak. He trembled at the thought of how many different ways this could happen to elicit intense reactions each time.

He pushed his mouth into his, inhaling Brahms’s skin and all that made him, _him_ , moaning into his mouth eager to taste the familiar scent that he spent a lifetime around; Brahms’s essence had evolved from that of a boy into a man and yet, he stayed the same; _safe_ , like _home_.

The hands still intertwined at their sides shifted, brushing against the front of their trousers, causing Benjamin’s breath to hitch in the kiss. He nudged himself closer until he could feel Brahms’s hardness against him before pushing more deliberately, the rubbing instantly making him seep into his trousers. The wetness from Brahms made him twitch even more.

He squeezed his fingers into Brahms’s as their lips crushed against each other, turning the kiss hard and forceful. The awkward movements of their mouths became more fluid as each learned the other’s rhythm and their jaws began to work in unison together. They were a canvas to each other, their colors spread on a palette of both rawness and sophistication, their joining like brushstrokes soft and hard against the now palatable surface.

Brahms moaned softly against Benjamin’s mouth, his smooth tongue sliding instinctively against his lips, the desire to explore making his breath catch with need. Brahms’s warm, wet strokes filled Benjamin with aching excitement, almost pushing him over the edge that he now could barely stand on. He parted his lips and allowed him to explore, his own tongue slow to move before eventually pushing through, eager to once again taste him.

His hands slid up Brahms’s arms until they clenched around his shoulders in a tight grip, the desire for more closeness insatiable. He was desperate for them both to find out what and where any limits were.

They froze from the sound of loud clatter from the next room.

_“Shit.”_

In an instant, Brahms was at the sitting room’s threshold, straining his long neck towards the sound, his skilled disappearance an imprint of acquired stealth that now left Benjamin in the middle of the room, shaken and aroused.

“Well, there you are, darling. I thought that it would be nice to send Ceres a care package now that she’s settled at school. Which do you think she would like?”

Mrs. Greenwood stood in the entrance holding up tulip bulbs and a large photo book on the flowers of Holland.

“Er.”

Benjamin fought to make his thick tongue form a sentence after Brahms removed any words left from his mouth.

“I don’t really know. She may not have time for gardening where she is. She may not even have a place to plant flowers.”

Her gaze fell lower on Benjamin, turning into bewilderment.

“Well, goodness, Benjamin. Why are you holding that sofa pillow over your trousers?”

His tongue wouldn’t allow him to swallow and he forced a heavy shrug, hoping that his shoulders would speak for him.

“You’ve been acting rather oddly since Ceres has been gone. Are you alright?

“You’re not sick are you?”

She paused after her words, a look of recognition warming her face.

“You’re not _in love_?”

Benjamin choked after he was finally able to swallow, almost dropping the shield hiding his crotch.

“She’s a very lovely girl. We were quite close companions.”

Grateful that the words somehow spoke themselves, Benjamin relaxed a little, dropping his shoulders and lessening his grip on the pillow.

“Yes, well, she’s certainly not pedigree, but she very well could be. ‘Tis a shame about her commonor family.

“You speak of her as if you’ll never see her again, Benjamin. She’s only studying piano. It’s not medical school.”

She looked down at the items that she was still holding and sighed.

“Well, I suppose that I can send both and she can decide which she’d like to have. Or, she may want both.”

Benjamin chortled at the sad humor in her words as she lifted her head with raised eyebrows.

“There’s a strong storm coming. Do make sure that you finish up outdoors so that you don’t catch cold. That’s the last thing that you need in your odd condition.”

She shook her head at him as she left the room, leaving him sighing the breath that he held since Brahms had left. He waited until there was no sound before tossing the pillow back onto the sofa and racing up the stairs to his bedroom.

He grasped the door handle with hesitation before going into his room, listening for any sounds from within. He entered slowly, peering around the door and at every corner before stepping in and shutting it behind him.

_“Brahms?”_

He held his breath before walking towards the closet, his hands shaking slightly from nervousness and excitement as he placed his fingers around the door knob and turned slowly. He let his eyes adjust to the dark within, realizing that he may not even be in his room. He licked his lips as his thoughts began to race, imagining Brahms being discovered in the rest of the house. _He could be anywhere._

_How could he be this reckless?_

_Who would they think he was when they found him?_

Benjamin yelped when an arm reached out from the closet, yanking him inside as the door slammed behind him. He struggled to gain his bearings after collapsing on Brahms’s body, the sound of his uncontrollable giggling penetrating the silence. He strained to hush him against the laughter shaking him from underneath and managed to only whisper loudly over his mouth as his hand tried frantically to close it.

“You’re mad. You are very mad. Do you know how reckless this is?”

“I do."

Brahms raised his head to Benjamin's and whispered against his face.

"What have I to lose, Benjamin?”

He quieted against him, unable to answer except with another question that now ran through his mind. _What did any of them have to lose?_ Their lifelong dream was just snatched away from their arms and nothing was left.

He slid against the wall behind him and propped himself up close enough to finally whisper against Brahms’s ear.

“A chance. We lose a chance to see her again.”

Brahms scoffed and then shifted slightly, reaching underneath him to inspect an object in the faint light. He laughed softly next to Benjamin, pushing the stuffed animal underneath his chin and tickling him until his arm was shoved away. Brahms tsked, leaving the toy on Benjamin’s head before rolling away from him.

“At least you have toys past infancy.”

His curse was muffled when he snatched off a piece of clothing that fell on his head and tossed it into the dark space ahead while Benjamin snickered next to him.

“That’s not funny, sweet, little Benjamin.”

“Oh, yes it is. It shut you up, didn’t it?”

Benjamin froze when Brahms was suddenly over him, the ragged breathing from his laughter making it hard to catch his breath in the hot, stuffy air.

“You know what happens to bad little boys, don’t you, sweet Benjamin?”

His erection instantly appeared underneath Brahms’s weight, taunting him with both embarrassment and delight.

_“Oh._

“Now you really, _really_ are a bad boy.”

“What if —

Brahms circled his hips around him, avoiding his crotch and grinding his own hardness against his thigh, leaving Benjamin groaning as he struggled to form words.

 “— someone finds us?”

Brahms answered with a bruising kiss, squeezing his legs tighter around him. The sensation of his tongue languidly gliding over his bottom lip made him jerk his hips against him. The feel of his teeth grazing against him forced Benjamin’s head to raise, desperate to press himself into Brahms’s mouth as deeply as he could. Brahms pulled away suddenly, his voice husky as he breathed into Benjamin’s ear.

“You always said that you’d never leave my side. The only thing that I’ve really left to lose is the only thing that I’ve ever wanted to keep.”

Brahms rolled his erection onto Benjamin’s.

“And that’s you.”

He pulled his face away to look down at him, the faint light casting a silhouette of his soft curls.

“So, I don’t care if they find me. If you or I must go, it will be together.”

They both jumped when a crack of thunder broke the quiet around them. Brahms choked on his laughter and fell backwards as Benjamin reared up, pushing his shoulders hard.

“You’re sweaty and you smell. You need a bath straight away.”

Brahms pressed his forehead against his.

“Make me.”

Benjamin snickered, rising slowly towards the closet door. In a flash, Brahms pushed ahead of him and sprinted out of the room. Desperate and bewildered, he raced after him as he ran freely through the rest of the house. The knot in his stomach grew as he watched the scene played in slow motion; the person who had never seen daylight inside his home past the age of eight was now careening around corners and down flights of stairs in full view.

Benjamin jumped at a thunder clap and bright flash that invaded the entire room, seizing the light within it and leaving him in pitch blackness. He stood on the bottom step of the staircase gripping the wide rails with sweating hands and squinted into the darkness ahead.

“ _Brahms_?”

A strong grip closed around his waist, effortlessly dragging him through the darkness to the storm outside. Benjamin understood the lifetime it took to skillfully navigate without light in the bleakest of conditions. A part of him felt a new enchantment in being able to experience what it’s really like to hide and not be found and wondering where the line is blurred between escaping or merely hiding from being exposed.

He thought of how often Brahms may have used his lack of visibility to his advantage and the somewhat sinister thrill of living in that darkness in a world all his own. The parties, the guests, the drunken conversations may not ever have been reasons for childlike spying, but rather, an innate intrigue that resulted in a voyeuristic existence most would never know. Benjamin felt excited to now be a part of this dance with danger, led into a wild storm and running like a child with no regard for the cars on a raining street.**

Brahms released his grip finally, wearing a wild grin; his head held high and arms extended to the relentless downpour. Benjamin watched, mesmerized, as the rain poured on them. The way that Brahms seemed to _wear_ the lightning storm made him almost invincible. He felt anguish, torn between the desire to _be_ the tall, drenched, fearless creature in front of him or _wanting him._

Brahms ran his palms over his drenched hair, exposing the rest of the scars on his forehead. Each crack of lightning cast a sheen over his pale, drenched skin, the burns on his face almost coming to life. Brahms was alive; it was a side of him that Benjamin didn’t know if he was witnessing for the first time or that he had simply never been unable to see.

He shielded his eyes from the onslaught of rain and gasped as Brahms peeled off his soaked clothes. He stared with widened eyes, struggling to see in the storm; the sight of the completely naked form, outside, filled him with wonder. Wetness poured over the subtle curve of muscles on his lean body. Benjamin slid his hands over his soaked head, wiping his face while he continued to watch the statue before him.

***

Ceres sat cross-legged on her bed, smiling at her roommate as she walked into their shared dormitory. Her hands fell on her lap, the scattered pages of notes falling around her on the bed as she yawned and arched her back.

“You know, most people reserve challenges like yours until the _end_ of their studies.”

Ceres laughed softly at the words.

“I can never do anything conventionally, so why stop here?”

Her Hungarian friend sat next to her on the bed, bowing her head at the complex pieces of music and stared at Ceres.

“Tell me again the story.”

Ceres drew in a long breath and sighed, pulling the pages of notes together into a pile to make room for her to lay back and stretch her legs. She closed her eyes and yawned again before a soft smile appeared on her lips.

“Rusalka approaches her father, the old spirit, as he is enjoying the singing of the wood nymphs. The young girl has fallen for a human, a young prince and wishes to be with him so that she can experience mortal love for the first time. With sadness, he guides her to a witch who tells Rusalka that if she chooses to become human, she will be forced to live out her days as a mute and will no longer be immortal; worse, if there exists no love between she and the prince, he will die and be damned to hell.

Ceres’s friend tsks as her face falls.

“Rusalka drinks a magic potion offered by the witch, desperate to risk the only chance to be with her love. She meets him again and is transformed into her own bittersweet plight, following her prince away from her home in the forest. They are interrupted by his jerk friends —”

Ceres grimaces and stares at her friend with a bothered look.

“I loathe this part.”

“I know, love. Continue.”

“The prince is mocked by them for marrying a mute with no family name. The prince, brute that he is, already set his sights on another wench who is invited to his _own marriage_ to Rusalka.”

The Hungarian offers sympathy.

“You stupid arsehole, you! Pulling your love from the only home that she’s known and still you shag the wedding guest!”

Ceres raised her legs in laughter, grasping her middle.

“Right. As I said, brute. So. Rusalka decides not to take any crap and shuns the bastard prince, wishing him and his hussy to Hell. So, here’s the even worse part.”

She pauses as her friend offers encouragement.

“Yes, yes. Let’s have it, then.”

“How many times have you heard this story, Nadin?”

“Enough, but I love to hear a story told to me, especially a tragic one.”

Ceres scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“That is a very sweet way to look at it.

“So, Rusalka reaches out to the witch again hoping that she can now at least save herself, since love with the prince had no chance. Rusalka refuses an offer that would spare her life but then end the prince’s. She is now bound to her originally chosen fate, thus becoming the spirit of death, luring mortals to their end beneath the lake.

“The two characters who earlier ridiculed the prince and Rusalka upon her emergence from the lake meet with the witch and tell her that Rusalka has betrayed the prince. A water-goblin explains to them that the prince was the one who betrayed her. Now he has gone in search of his unrequited love again trying to summon her from the lake. Knowing her fate, he wants still to take the chance of dying by asking for a final kiss from her. She obliges and rather than let him suffer a damned existence, she asks that God spare him since he sacrificed his life so that she could experience mortal love. He is shown mercy and God saves his soul.”

Ceres lay curled in a ball on her side, clutching her pillow. Nadine sits on the bed staring ahead silently. After several moments, Nadine breaks their thoughts, her voice soft.

“It’s so tragic that the prince didn’t want her until it was too late. All of that could have been avoided if he gave himself fully to her.”

Ceres stretched her legs out and nestled further into her pillow, her eyelids heavy.

“The tragedy is that Rusalka tried to change her comfortable life by risking the loss of everything; her father, her home, her self. If she had just accepted her fate and who she was, there would be no tragedy.

“But then, there would be no opera.”

Nadine turned to Ceres, placing her hand on her head and smiled to herself before she stood, allowing her friend to drift off to sleep.

 

   _*Antonín Dvořák, Rusalka_

> _**Lyrics from Fyfe Monroe, “In My Dream”_

 


	30. Embers

Brahms pummeled into Benjamin, nearly knocking him over on the slick ground.  Strong arms held him in place while managing to yank down his trousers before leaving Benjamin standing half naked in the rain.  He yelled over the storm to Brahms who was running circles around him, eyes mad and wearing a savage smile, his nearly feral laughter interspersed with loud whooping.

 " _Is this Lord of the Flies, then!?”_

Benjamin stepped out of his trousers and peeled off his top, leaning his head far back to catch the stinging rain.  He remained still, enjoying the new experience of the cold water pouring over his skin from every direction. The sensitive parts of his body were in overload, confused from the onslaught of sensations, the arousal and slight pain fighting each other.  He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut, enjoying the conflicting feelings of pleasure traveling through him.

He felt a sudden poke against his lower belly.  Knowing that Brahms had quieted down, he kept his eyes closed and his head held back, trusting the moment and whatever it brought.  He shuddered into the welcoming, familiar touch of a slick hand gently grasping the underside of his cock. Smiling, he extended his own hand to the hardness jabbing into his soft flesh.  Warm steam escaped with their breaths, already ragged from the slight cold against their bare skin and the excitement churning deep inside their bodies.

Benjamin lowered his head as water dripped down from his chin and parted smile.  They pushed against each other, moving in time to the other’s pull; a dance of play and counterplay, matching the other’s rhythm of fast and slow and hard and soft.  Each groaned into the other’s touch, fighting to keep a grip against the slickness between their wet hands. They balanced against each other with their foreheads, their bodies swaying with the stream of rain around them.

Benjamin peered up to smile at Brahms’s closed eyes and dripping wet parted lips.

“Are you slobbering on yourself?”

Brahms grunted at him with half-lidded eyes as he quickened his movements.

“Almost.”

With a sputtering moan, Benjamin came in Brahms’s hand, working his own hand faster until Brahms stilled against his forehead with another louder groan.  The rain washed over their flushed bodies, leaving left them laughing breathlessly.

***

“Oh, Brahms, you've been a naughty, naughty boy.”

He stared up at Benjamin with a solemn face, his eyes flashing in the dim light.

“I didn’t get caught.”

He peered down at him, admiring his dark curls splayed behind his neck on his pillow.  His eyes wandered over the scars, remembering the first time that he had seen them, tender and raw as the young child who reached out to him when no one else was left.  No one else _was_ left now.   

The hazel green in his eyes reflected back at him until an acheful twinge began to form in Benjamin’s chest.  He bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Brahms regarded him with mild curiosity, preoccupied with a wide yawn as he patted Benjamin’s head.

“You alright?”

Benjamin swallowed nervously and slid his leg off of Brahms.

“I’m — tired, I suppose.  I should go. Electricity should be back on now.  

“Not that it matters here.”

He smiled softly at Brahms’s rolling eyes and raised himself off the bed.

_“Kiss.”_

He turned back towards Brahms’s widened eyes demanding his attention.  Benjamin stared awestruck at the lean form with a bent knee, barefoot and lounging on perpetually mussed sheets.  He swallowed heavily, forcing down again the ache that had grown to a sorrowful throb.

“Kiss.”

He leaned over him and paused, noticing the heavy swallow in Brahms’s throat.  His eyes betrayed something behind them; perhaps a yearnful longing for something —  more. Benjamin did not know what. He hovered over his mouth, the familiar and now intoxicating scent nearly shattering him and he squeezed his eyes shut once more.

Brahms raised up and pressed his lips hard against Benjamin’s, nearly pulling him down to him.  His mouth trembled with the rest of his body and tears pricked his eyes. He held the kiss for as long as his breath allowed, the smell of Brahms’s skin absorbed through all of his senses.

“Goodnight.”

He pulled away before the tears could fall and started again on the dark path towards the weathered trail of wet trees.

***

Benjamin assumed that he had only two ideas about love.  The first, one that he would never forget, was formed the first seven years of his life.  It would always remain with him. The second idea came when he found an elevated form of love when a bonding companionship was awarded to him and Brahms.  Benjamin had never known romantic love, not even with Madelaine, whose fond affection matched only the unconditional love of his parents.

This new feeling that was forming was something else entirely different than his past, and rather limited, experiences.  The physical and emotional sensations were _experimental_ in nature and thus, _chosen_ .  He was free of his own accord to give and receive whatever it was that fueled this new awareness, though he wasn’t sure what the awareness _was_.

He pondered and analyzed, theorized and categorized, but he could not place this one thing, this _newness_ and what it was.  Encounters with Brahms became uncomfortable and he found himself annoyingly hypersensitive to _everything_ that Brahms did or did _to_ him.  Casual occurrences suddenly gave serious cause for interpretation.  Meaningless quarrels that never amounted to anything after years of wear and comfort were now taken out of context and forced Benjamin to either lash out or shut down for several days.

His behavior was somewhat odd to Brahms, but he understood that perhaps Benjamin just needed time to adjust being away from Ceres; indeed, her absence was difficult on him, too.  Sometimes Benjamin’s presence hurt Brahms, serving as a reminder of a broken link that may or may not one day reappear and be bound with theirs once again.

Each struggled and each coped with skills that could only be learned with difficulty and with time.  Only so much introspection and cause for change can be done alone and soon they both had no choice but to circle back around to each other.  An old, familiar place becomes more of a source of comfort when it is needed. Over time, with well worn returns, it can evolve into the refuge that one never needs to leave again.

***

_“BRAHMS!_

_“For the love of all things green and wild, get your arse over here!”_

Brahms shuffled around the kitchen corner, his shoulders down and hands clasped behind him.

“Do you know — ”

Benjamin paused before taking a deep breath.

“ — how much this tool meant to me?”

He glared at Brahms who only shook his head at his feet.

“I will tell you.  There is a certain manufacturer in a very small German village which makes _this_.”

He held up a melted gardening utensil.

“The town is so small that gardeners’ instruments are the only form of revenue that is brought in.   _In fact,_ generations of families have worked for this manufacturer to supply fools like me with outrageously priced metal just so that I can stick it in the ground with —”

He lowered his head and squeezed his eyes shut while tightly grasping the tool’s deformed end.

“ — _preciseness_ .  And do you know what happens when it goes missing or becomes _marred_?”

He shook the rusted tool, layers of black soot flaking off from the corroded metal.

Brahms peered up at him and mumbled.

“If it’s so good, why didn’t it last?”

“ _Because!_ — _”_

Benjamin glowered and grabbed several small pebbles from a bag to throw at him.

_“ — you nitwit. It is made for soil and earth, not a fucking fireplace cleaner!”_

Brahms shrugged his shoulders, wringing his hands behind him.

“I was just trying to be tidy, like you always say that I should be.”

He winced and jerked away from another pebble aimed at his head.

“Oh, bugger off!!”

Brahms turned to leave and paused at the threshold.  He looked over his shoulder and smiled at Benjamin.

“But you’re awful cute when you tense up like that.”

 _“Leave,_ _BRAHMSY_!”

***

Mrs. Heelshire sat on the edge of Brahms’s old bed, stroking the doll’s forehead as she held it on her lap and spoke with quiet earnestness, peering into its porcelain face.

“You see, Brahms, there are certain vicissitudes that come with a child as special as you are.  The normal conventions that most parents live with when raising their children are not the case with Mummy and Daddy.  We had protect you at all costs from those that wanted to harm you after what you had done to that little girl.

“Mummy couldn’t bear the thought of losing you so she did the only thing that short time after her murder had allowed.  She had to think of a way to _preserve_ you so that you would always be here with us because that’s important.  It is our duty as parents to have your best interest at heart, you see.

“Mummy made sure that once the fire started, you would be safe.  That’s why she came before it was too late —

“ —  to save you.

“And I did!”

Her solemn expression grew into a wide smile.

“I was determined that you made it safely to your new room.  

“My, how heavy you were.  Mummy had to carry you through many dark tunnels and secret passages, ones that were unbeknown to anyone but us.”

She leaned in close to his face with gleaming eyes, placing her finger on the tip of his nose.

“It was an _adventure_.  I know that you’ve learned those secret passages because you’re such a smart boy and that sometimes you like to roam and walk about.  

“Little boys need their exercise.”

Her old hands grasped the cold porcelain fingers, lifting the arms into a tiny swing.  Her face fell again as she lowered her voice.

“It was necessary to stay in your new room until you healed.  It took some time, but Mummy made sure that you had all that you needed so that you could get better.  And you did.

“And here you are!”

She paused at the sound of shuffling from within the walls and sat still until there was silence again.

“Mummy and Daddy do love you.  We want the best for you, _always_ .  One day, you will grow up and marry that nice girl, giving her a worthy name that the poor thing doesn’t have.  You will have children and carry on the family legacy. Mummy will make _sure_ of that.

“She is an orphan, like you, but you have a strong identity and _clout_ .  You haven’t lost that because you are a _Heelshire_.”

Brahms had heard enough, his shoulders sunk low, as he turned to walk away from the wall.  Wet streaks streamed through the dirt on his face, pooling at his jaw into dark drops. Ferocious bangs echoed through the tunnels, rattling dusty boards with each forced step.

He hurled himself on his old bed, the one that he reminded himself came with his prison sentence.

_“FUCK!”_

He screamed into the air, pounding the wall next to him until he could no longer feel the pain in his fists.  He wept as the pain inside the rest of him became more unbearable. His core yearned for relief from the only thing that he knew would provide comfort, the only thing that had _ever_ provided comfort before his scars had even formed.

He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to cope alone.  Years of accumulated trauma had already been shared with Benjamin and now the culmination of those raw experiences were lit on fire now that he knew the true source of his suffering. He would keep this new torture inside and allow it to fester, promising himself that he would not lash out.  It would not be worth the consequences that his own parents had taught by example. No, he would simply rest and wait until Benjamin had come to his own senses, yielding to the reasons behind his own turmoil. As long as he had Benjamin, he would set himself free when the time would again present itself.

He never expected the absence of Ceres would prove so powerful.  Somehow, for reasons that he couldn’t fathom, everything seemed to fall apart in his world and Benjamin’s.  Everything was the same, but all the bad that existed before she came had returned and now felt worse. It wasn’t as if they escaped their realities when she arrived.  Brahms began to realize that reality was simply _altered_.  Their circumstances, their pasts, their own selves, had not changed, but their perceptions had.  She was the catalyst that seemed to stop time and move them all forward to something — else.

He turned over on his bed and smelled the pillow balled underneath his face.  Her scent had been gone for months now, but he knew that it was there somehow, whether he could smell it or not. Indeed, her own fluids mixed with his stains at least were combined and preserved. It was one of the very few things now that gave him piece of mind.  

As he closed his eyes to try and smell her more deeply, he wondered if this was what love was.  The only kind that he knew was what was supposed to exist between two parents. He had heard people speaking of it over many years in the sitting room.  The conversations varied between a dull regard for it and the importance of having longevity — often mentioned with strained pride from older couples and often spoken with regret and pain. Sometimes, a deep, almost joyous personal account was shared between two people, unlike the one sided, obligatory descriptions from one half of another.  

This latter half of people hardly came to the mansion and as Brahms grew older he began to miss hearing the way these couples would speak of love.  Though the expressions may not have been particular or detailed in nature, they conveyed an emotion that intrigued him. It filled him with wonder and awe that such a thing could exist between two people.

 _What then existed between him and Benjamin?  What existed between them and Ceres? Was it forbidden?  If no love existed between them, was what they experienced heartfelt?_ He wondered if people in love ever had to worry about these things.  Perhaps, in love, things were perfect and there was no question about anything.  It must be that since he didn’t fit into a conventional mold, he wasn’t capable of experiencing what most are able to.

He also didn’t recall hearing about love that wasn’t shared by just two people.  He knew from studying the Bible that there were many interpretations of what was happening with him and Benjamin and Ceres, but he refused to believe anything beyond the stories that were in it; that was all that they were — stories. His life wasn’t one and his experiences were real. He would keep them in his mind and would never let the feelings leave from his heart, even if they never saw Ceres again.

***

A full year had passed, two since Ceres had come into their lives.  Benjamin had counted by what he had grown in that time. His plantings had seen eight seasons and while some had made it to their full potential, never to grow again, many still thrived.  Those dormant ones continued to flourish, season after season, whether the blooms could be seen or not. If only life were like his garden and he could pick what could live and when and what to grow and enjoy and what would be enough for as long as it needed to be.  

He breathed a deep sigh, forcing the images of Brahms away from his mind.  He missed him immensely and their time apart was nothing like their absence from each other growing up.  Things were most certainly different and Benjamin wasn’t sure if he wanted to reverse events and bring their relationship back to its stable, comfortable state.  What things had come to were already an uncomfortable, unstable unknowing that left him unsettled deep in his bones.

He gathered his trays and went outdoors, breathing in the sweet countryside summer air.  He stood for a moment with his eyes shut and arms full continuing to inhale the smell of fresh earth and feeling instantly comforted by the sound of the tall trees jutting high up into the sky.

He strolled over the soft ground towards the grassy fields, his feet bare under rolled up trousers.  Wind rippled against his light shirt, blowing warm air through the rolled up sleeves on his arms. He lowered his supplies to the ground, smirking at the missing tool that he couldn’t bring himself to replace.  The absence of it somehow comforted him; having a new instrument wouldn’t adequately fill the ache that only continued to grow with the reminder of why it was no longer there.

He placed his arms over his bent knees and sat as he had done many times before seeing the image of three young teenagers just yards away with no care in their minds except to make sure that a doll had his packed afternoon tea.  It was a beautiful sight for Benjamin to watch Brahms enjoying sunlight and to be able to see the warm hues in his dark hair.

He never remembered the impact that his physical presence had on him and how he looked, how he _really_ looked when exposed to natural elements.  Brahms was in Benjamin’s home when they were both outside together.  Nature had indeed taken its toll on the scars but it didn’t stop the beautiful boy from growing into such a breathtaking man.  He was absolutely exquisite. Nothing, but nothing could surpass that beauty but Ceres.

Benjamin was flat on the ground, his chin against his hands, staring between the tall grasses.  He knew that no one could even seen him unless someone was directly over him. His forehead lowered into the pocket of warm space on the ground. He began to roll his hips with a mild annoyance at the constant urge that his body was always plaguing him with.

He sighed heavily, grinding into the soft earth below him, knowing that he would have to yet again change his trousers before the day’s end.  Nonetheless, images of the same soft wind blowing against Ceres’s ginger hair forced a whimper from him, the memory of her smooth, pale skin and gentle fingers grasping his cock sending electricity down to his toes.  

He recalled in vivid detail when she first held him in her hands and he yearned, _ached_ to be there again in a different time and different place.  His fantasies now took him to another life where the three would be able to enjoy each other in their own private sanctuary, away from any fear of exposure.  Indeed, it could be possible as adults, but it didn’t stop him from dreaming about it now, a lifetime away from any possibility of that reality.

He ground his cock hard into the earth, mimicking the imagined sensation of being between Ceres’s thighs.   _How it would feel_ , he couldn’t fully comprehend.  But he could fantasize and all the more fodder to have Brahms a complete part of the scenario.   _How it would feel to put his mouth around his jutting erection; his own best mate’s._

Benjamin’s hand quickened around himself, the overwhelming fantasies soon staining him with sticky fluid.  He sighed loudly, his cheek against the ground as the wind blew the items from his work tray through the grass where they stuck, hidden within the stalks.

***

The sound of a child’s xylophone playing rang through the hallway, growing louder as Benjamin approached Brahms’s old room.  He paused silently in the doorway, watching Brahms sitting hunched over the toy with his legs splayed out, his dirty cardigan pooling around the seat of his stained trousers.

Seeing his bare feet and the toys that surrounded them sent a pang to Benjamin’s heart.  He remembered how they would sit with their feet always touching as they played together, the significance not known until he saw the sadness in the trousers high above Brahms’s ankles as he sat companionless and now surrounded by empty space. He made a step towards him, waking up the creaking floorboards.

Brahms jerked around, the instrument in his hand flying towards Benjamin.

“I’m sorry!  I’m sorry, Brahms! I didn’t mean to scare you!”

Brahms’s eyebrows furrowed into a look of worry with fear overshadowing his face.  He choked on his words with a raised, scared voice.

“It hurts —  

“—  all the sounds hurt.”

Benjamin fell to Brahms’s side, encircling his arm that had now dropped over an outstretched knee.

“What hurts Brahms?  Your ears?”

_“NO!”_

He jumped at the sudden guttural shout from deep inside his throat.  Brahms immediately quieted, looking past Benjamin into the space ahead.

“Brahms, what’s _wrong_?”

“I don’t know!”

He whined the words, his voice rising higher as he gazed at Benjamin. His lips trembled against a forced whisper.

“I’m scared.  Please don’t let anything happen to me.   _Please don’t let them hurt me.”_

Benjamin placed his hand into Brahms's, slowly guiding it up from the toy until they were both standing.

“I won’t let them hurt you. Let’s make our way back to your room.”

"NO! DON’T MAKE ME GO BACK THERE!  I WON’T!

_“IT SMELLS OF FIRE!”_

Benjamin jumped several feet, now alarmed and scared at this side of Brahms that he had never seen.

He stood for several moments, observing his face for any more outbursts and waited calmly until Brahms was settled.

“Where may I take you that’s safe, Brahms?”

Brahms spoke slowly as he stared back with widened eyes.

“The rooftop.”

***

They arrived on Benjamin’s terrace, Brahms sitting cross-legged next to and nearly on Benjamin, his head resting on his shoulder and moving as close as he could as his upper arm was stroked. Benjamin pulled Brahms closer when he would begin to rock himself and stare into the distance as he swayed restlessly.

Neither had spoken since the walk through the woods except for the whimpering that came from Brahms when they were forced to bypass their meeting place the night of the fire.  Benjamin knew that something had triggered Brahms’s raw recollection of that night, of that time filled with _many nights_ spent alone and suffering.  He turned his head hastily to wipe his own tears on his other sleeve as he continued to hold him, rubbing his back in wide circles.  Brahms had stilled for a moment before turning to him with the most serious expression he had ever seen.

“Please never leave me.  Please say that you will be with me for always, Benjamin.  I can’t bear losing you when I thought I had lost myself that horrible night.”

Benjamin shifted his body to face him, draping his legs around his waist and stared until they were both looking at each other.  He searched the reddened eyes that looked back at him and pulled their hands together.

“I will never leave you.  I never have. I will not now — nor shall I ever. I will be you with always.”

He continued to clasp his hands tightly around his and formed a weak smile while something inside caused him to tremble.

Brahms’s voice cracked as he spoke.

“But —

“— why did you leave me alone for an entire year?”

Benjamin cursed himself for his complete insensitivity and selfish reasoning for not being able to bear the ache of being around Brahms and the new feelings that he was having.  In an ironic twist, he had managed to eliminate the thing that they each needed all along. No matter the consequences, the story would never change and they could never again be separated.  They would have to grow through each of their pains together. Whatever demons each may have to face, it needed to faced by each other’s side.

“Because I needed time to think.”

Brahms pondered his answer with a lowered head, staring at their clasped hands.  He raised his wondering eyes to Benjamin, regarding him with hurt and vulnerability.

“Are you finished?”

Benjamin smiled apprehensively.

“I think so.”

“Then we’re still friends?”

“Yes.  We’re still friends.  We’ll always be friends.  Perhaps time apart is what is needed to make this friendship stronger.”

Benjamin pondered his own words and sought their meaning and an answer to the questions in his heart.  Brahms stared at him still, the tenderness in his expression pulling Benjamin with an unbearable ache as he spoke softly to him.

“We are best friends  —

“ — and I love you.”

His heart raced furiously as he fought to still his trembling hands, now made worse by the look of clearness that fell on Brahms’s face; the tilt of his head signaled the deep pondering of Benjamin’s declaration.

“How?”

Benjamin shifted his legs and stretched them out towards the terrace railing.  The beautiful night sky began to form a blanket of stars over them. From where he sat, he could see the top of Brahms’s home as he saw it as a child.  He only had to shift himself lower to regain the perspective.

Brahms slid over to face Benjamin and pulled on his shirt.

_“How?”_

Benjamin was determined not to indulge his friend with his own stupid, unformed, childish feelings.  A part of him yearned to express exactly what he felt to the person that he trusted more than anything.  Somehow all the trust in the world didn’t seem enough for the leap that he desperately wanted to take, clearing the turmoil from his head.  

He stared at the giant concrete railing ahead, determined that jumping off would prove better than bearing his soul to Brahms.  They had known everything about each other, but he was not prepared for this. They had come into friendship during childhood without much thought or conscience; that part was long past and Benjamin wasn’t ready for a thoughtful, conscious journey into adulthood.  It was too scary and he would not risk this life long friendship with his petty emotions.

Brahms reached out his finger to the space between Benjamin’s brows.

“Always ruminating.

“It’s a simple question, sweet, little Benjamin.”   

Benjamin whirled around to face him, speaking almost feverishly before dropping his head down.

“I love your heart.  And your spirit.  And _You_  —

“ — I think that I am _in love_ —

“ — with _you_.”

Brahms dropped his arms into Benjamin’s lap, cupping his hands.

“Are we _lovers_?”

Benjamin’s face flushed as he stared down at the answer. Brahms bent towards him and lowered his head until Benjamin had to meet his stare and answer him.

“I don’t know.  I don’t know the true meaning of that.  Lovers love each other. It’s not just sex.”

Brahms raised his eyebrows and lowered his head slightly.

“Then, what we’ve had is only —

“ —  sex?”

Benjamin looked back at him, hating himself for his own admission. He wasn’t prepared for questions for which he had no answers.  Clearly they were both ill prepared for what competent adults already know and are able convey.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what any of it is.  You know as much as I do. There are books and people and conversations on which we’ve eavesdropped, but I’ve never heard of what we have —

“ — if there is anything to be had.”

Brahms grinned widely, earning a solicited smile from Benjamin.

“If you don’t know, then neither do I —

“ — but I do know what I feel, sweet, little Benjamin.”

He inched his way to the wall and wrapped an arm over Benjamin's chest, pulling him closer until he was flush against him, their legs splayed out before them.  They both looked out over the horizon illuminated by white stars that blanketed the sky over the Heelshire manor far ahead. Brahms wrapped both arms around Benjamin and held him tightly, his heart beating against him.  He pressed his face against his as they sat entangled with one another.

He spoke at last into Benjamin’s ear, wrapping his arms tighter around his friend.

“I have loved you since the moment you graced me with your presence.  My love for you has grown exponentially through all of these years. I shall love you for as long as I am alive and I can only wish on the stars above us that you will love me, too.  

“I cherish you with all that I am, sweet Benjamin —  

“ — with all that I am.”

Brahms’s shoulders fell as a loud exhale escaped from his arms.  Benjamin turned and wrapped himself around him, his tear-stained face buried inside his arms.  The stars gave way to brighter light until the sun spread its faint glow across the open sky and absorbed their twinkle. They held each other, never losing space between them as the new day enveloped them in its golden light.


	31. Undone

“What makes the desert beautiful,' said the little prince, 'is that somewhere it hides a well…”

_The Little Prince, **Antoine de Saint-Exupéry**_

 

* * *

 

Benjamin awoke to the disorientingly loud sound of chirping birds close by.  He opened his eyes and realized that he was as close to the treetops as the birds high above near the mansion’s terrace. He shifted against Brahms’s arms still around him and started to rise. The strong hold closed around him, squeezing him tighter until he was pulled back against him.  He smiled softly to himself and peered up at Brahms, whose eyes were still closed.

He rested his face against his warm chest, the soft, rhythmic breathing causing his heart to swell with more love for him that he could have imagined.  He wrapped his own arms around his waist and snuggled in closer, burying his nose as deep as he could against his scent. Brahms’s hand reached up slowly, lingering in Benjamin’s hair before tracing a caressing path to the side of his face.

_“...‘dore you.”_

Brahms stopped his motions and listened again.

_“...two..”_

He peered down to see if he was awake, becoming more puzzled at the words he had spoken.

_“...’dore you…”_

He continued to rub Benjamin’s scalp as he pressed a knowing half smile to it and tilted his cheek into the soft hair.  He held his body fast against him, the beating of his heart slow and steady inside his arms.

They did not forget Ceres’s long ago declaration that escaped Benjamin’s lips from the depths of his dreams.  He knew that his heart and Benjamin’s were in synch and the new dreams that each had yet to share with each other would only amplify what was already so deeply shared inside them both.  

He had not indulged with him the details of his last night with Ceres.  The timing was not right and he wanted for Benjamin to be able to feel as he did, as if he was there.  He hated that only a kiss from that night was all that could be shared between the three of them.

He shifted underneath him, unable to sit any longer.  He moved his sleeping form gently to his side, resting his head on a crumpled sweater lying next to them before he stood and walked across the terrace towards the railing.

_“Brahms!”_

He turned towards the loud whisper behind him before continuing to lean over the terrace rail.

_“What are you doing?!”_

Benjamin stopped short at his side and noticed the unzipped front of Brahms’s trousers, a look of relief and shock spreading across his face. He gazed at Brahms, a nervous smile beginning to form.

“I thought that —

“ — I didn’t know that you were — ”

Brahms smiled wanly back as he touched Benjamin’s chin with his free hand.

“No, love.  I’m not going anywhere.  I made you a promise, remember?

Benjamin peered over the rail, apprehensive of any activity that he might find down below in the gardens.  He unzipped his trousers and pushed himself between the railings as Brahms stepped behind him and rested his chin against his shoulder, moving closer and wrapping himself around Benjamin’s busy arms.  Benjamin zipped up his trousers and reached his hands back to curl inside Brahms’s pockets.

They stared out across the sunrise, both enjoying the warmth and security of each other; each content in the small moment that all was well.  Brahms squeezed Benjamin tighter, moving his cheek next to his and pressing close to him, his eyes closed with the new hope in his heart beginning to stir again.

Benjamin spoke in a dreamy whisper, enjoying the touch of Brahms’s warm cheek.

“What do you suppose that she’s doing at this moment?”

Brahms sighed against his cheek and turned to press a long, soft kiss into it.

“Perhaps she’s writing us a piece of music.”

Benjamin turned his head towards Brahms, burying his nose under his jaw.

“Do you think that she’ll return?”

“I don’t know, sweet, little Benjamin.  I’m content that she was happy when she was here and that we were all happy together.”

He turned into Brahms and wrapped his arms around him, settling his face into his curls and mumbling against them.

“What do you want to do today, Brahmsy?

***

The bright sun shined down on Benjamin’s wispy hair as the wind gently blew it.  He beamed up at Brahms who was fast at work with his charcoal and pad. He looked back at him with a half grin and reached out to rub a stained finger over his nose.  Benjamin winced and smiled before his face became serious.

“Are you happy?”

“Very.”

“Then you’re not sad anymore?”

Brahms lowered his head and traced his finger over a line, smudging its edges until he was satisfied.

“For the moment, no.  I am fine.”

He looked up at Benjamin, his face slightly serious before he returned to his drawing.

“It’s just like when we were children, isn’t it, Brahmsy?”

Brahms laughed to himself and pushed aside his drawing to lay next to him.

“I shall hope that neither one of us will be children again.”

He gestured to the ground at each of their handiworks.

“These and you are what I cherish the most.  I will never give those up.”

He pulled Benjamin to the ground to lay with him, wrapping a strong arm around to pull him close.

“I will never forget that night of hell and the months that followed the torture from it. But I will also never forget your love and your loyalty to me and for being my friend through all of it.  I would not have survived without you.”

Benjamin rolled to his back and stared up at Brahms.  His scars never burned in the sun or changed very much, but they had grown with him.  He had memorized each mark and the feel of each trace against his fingertips as a child.  He had not touched them in the same way since he was a curious boy who first wondered what they felt like, what they _meant_.  He was apprehensive about now, insecure that perhaps it was too intimate and private for Brahms to allow him to be that close to him.  

Their physical intimacy was not the same as the intimacy of the internal scars that he was forced to wear on his face.  It saddened Benjamin deeply to know that most people had the luxury to hide their demons inside; Brahms would spend a lifetime wearing his for all the world to see.  He understood why his best friend would never want to see that world or of having to expose his innermost self when he didn’t have to.

Brahms peered down at his wondering face, tracing his soft hair across his forehead.

“Am I so ugly?”

Benjamin cast his gaze to Brahms's eyes, hurt by the question.

“Of course not.  You are _exquisitely_ handsome, more than the finest men in all the books I’ve read.

“And you arouse me _so_.

He blushed slightly before regaining his composure.

“The cruel tragedy is that your outside doesn’t match your inside.  What you are here —”

He placed his palm gently on Brahms’s chest.

“— is how you appear to me.”

He raised his eyes to him.

“If all the world could possibly know how beautiful you are, Brahms, your scars would cease to exist.  But if they shall stay, I will love you regardless because I know your heart and what is inside of you.

“It is most unfortunate what happened, yes, but that has not changed you from becoming a prince —

“ — at least to me.”

Brahms played with Benjamin’s hair against his neck.

“Then I am no longer a toad?”

“No, you are no longer a toad!”

Benjamin pushed him backwards until he fell to the ground and straddled him quickly.

“Does that make me your queen, Sire?”

Brahms pushed up his hips into Benjamin.

“It just makes you mine.”

He rolled Benjamin to his side and pinned his hands to the ground leaving just enough give for him to escape.  He stared down at him, his eyes wandering over the smooth face and bright eyes. He had not changed since boyhood; his innocence and beauty still captured with every smile and nuance.  He pushed back slightly and released a hand to trace his fingers over the soft cheeks and lips, sweeping the wisp of bangs aside to reveal the unmarred forehead.

He fixed his gaze into Benjamin’s solemn eyes that were the source of his love and utter devotion for him.

“Have you any idea how much I adore you?”

Benjamin’s eyes sparkled behind the mischievous grin spreading across his face.  

“No.”

He winced with a loud grunt as Brahms fell on top of him and crossed his long arms over Benjamin’s chest.  Brahms pressed his nose against his as he regarded him quietly. They stared at each other for long moments, both gazing over the other’s features, beholding what was once familiar and which had now grown to be theirs to discover for the first time.  It was not lost on Benjamin the vulnerability that Brahms was exposing to him, his scarred features so close to him; as each second passed, the more trust he felt in Brahms’s eyes.

Brahms rested his chin on his hands and stared into Benjamin’s eyes for several seconds, his voice carrying the earnesty of his expression.

“I love you.”

He lay his head on Benjamin’s chest and dropped his arms underneath his shoulders, squeezing him tightly against himself.  His face pressed closely against him where he held himself for several moments.

“Thank you.”

***

The lone torch lamp in Brahms’s room always proved too bright for him and over the years he had grown to detest its artificial harshness.  His worktable was the only source of comfort where light was concerned with the innocuous and small lamp that was attached to the table’s edge.  It provided just enough of a glow for him to sketch and to be able to see anything else that he was creating in the sacred space of the tiny room’s second level.

A new lamp now sat on Brahms’s nightstand that illuminated the otherwise dark corner of the room, which for years he had no desire of having to see.  Benjamin insisted that the lamp be placed there, his own worries would at least be quelled should Brahms wake up with any more night terrors.

Benjamin spent many a night in the bed at his side; in truth it was he who was laying while Brahms squeezed himself tightly against his chest, encircled by comforting arms and hearing gentle whispers until his shaking stopped.  The next morning would bring another round of washing the linens that had long since tired of being able to absorb the sweat and tears that had soaked every fiber from the long night.

Indeed, the lamp was a saving grace; if anything, it kept Benjamin from having to wonder when the Heelshires would be leaving the mansion; the small clock on the nightstand proved helpful with not having to guess if it was day or night.  After so much time in the isolated room, Benjamin began to wonder if there was a sun or moon anymore.

He embraced the one that he loved more than any precious seed on earth, stroking the clammy forehead and pressing his lips against the scarred cheek in a feeble attempt to take away the memories and pain.  Often, he cried with Brahms as he rocked him, trying to soothe and console him with anything that he could muster from memory that lay within the pages of their childhood story books.

Brahms had his favorite, The Little Prince, whose philosophical prose was fitting for his somewhat dark and enigmatic nature. It was soothing to them both to revert back to their childhood and relive the stories from their youth, the lines sometimes blurring between the fiction of what they read and what they each dreamt.

After several months, the looking after of Brahms could have taken its toll on anyone else.  Benjamin dared not think of anyone else in that room scalding the haven that they had both formed in their short time there together; no one would could ever understand.  He couldn’t be with him every night, of course, but the times that he was were when it mattered the most.

His one wish would be to somehow create new memories of healing in that room that would rescind Brahms’s experience after the fire with Mrs. Heelshire.  He could not know how to reverse that time, but he would do everything in his heart to try and make up for it. He, after all, should have been the one there with, if not instead of, him.

He lay still in the dark, his arms wrapped around Brahms whose nose was buried against his neck.  His heavy lids pulled him into a long awaited sleep as he felt Brahms’s body twitching from another deep dream.  A soft glow began to spread from across the room near the entrance, the light becoming brighter until Benjamin opened his eyes.  He stared, transfixed on the golden hue that was now taking the shape of a person’s figure.

As he focused in the darkness, he began to recognize the form and the slow feeling of warmth that had come over him.  His body relaxed at once, his arms loosening their grip around Brahms. The form was Madeleine's, her faint silhouette being enough for him to recognize that it was she.  

A picture came to his mind of him standing on a balcony and looking out over a large river.  He was high up and could see for miles both ways from his vantage point. It was as if the horizon was directly in front of him and he could actually touch it.  He felt such joy and peace on that balcony. He lived there but had no recollection of the place or time, only that the experience was very real. He was not alone and felt surrounded by more love than he had ever felt in his life.  It was a compounded feeling, strange, yet familiar; new and so beautiful.

His eyes were wet when the light from the room began to disappear.  The only voice that he heard was next to his ear, as if Madeleine was sitting beside him.

_“Love them both._

_“Soon, Benjamin.  Soon.”_

She was gone.  He rested his head on the pillow, nuzzling next to Brahms’s face, the light from the small lamp forming a silhouette around his dark curls.  His lips pressed against his skin and he held them there, his tears adding to the mosaic of many others absorbed against his cheek.

***

“Brahms!  Look who it is!

“Oh, _Brahms_!”

Mrs. Heelshire was beside herself, a fit of nerves and frenzied laughter.  Ceres stood in the entrance way surveying the surroundings, her suitcases at her feet.

“My, but it’s been so long since I’ve been a guest.  I may need another grand tour!”

Mrs. Heelshire smiled warmly, her eyes alight at the honorable guest in her home.

“As I’ve always said, my dear, you are welcome here and I have planned a long visit for you, indeed.

“Why, Brahms has been expecting you to return the moment that you left!”

She held the doll against her hip where he stared blankly past Ceres, poised in his tailored suit and at the precipice of excitement.

“Thank you for offering to keep Brahms company.  I know that he can be rather difficult at times, but rest assured that he will be on his _best_ behaviour.

“Isn’t that right, Brahms?”

She placed a finger on the tip of his nose and drew her smile towards his face as she rocked him.  Ceres stepped into the sitting room and glanced at the piano, her hands already tired at the sight.  Deep inside she wished that she would never have to look at another instrument again, at least until she returned to school.

“I gathered all of the sheet music that I could find.  I even ventured up into the attic so that you would have more pieces to play while you’re here.  Though, I imagine that you must be tired and may need a break from studies momentarily.”

Ceres offered a forced smile, her attention far away from the sitting room as she gazed around it past the walls of books and furniture.

“Well.  I’ll leave you to gather your things and get settled.  Mr. Heelshire has already fetched your belongings and placed them in your room.  Once you’re settled, we’ll have supper and get reacquainted.

“Goodbye, now!”

She raised the doll’s limp arm before leaving Ceres surrounded with only the reverberating sounds of a nearby grandfather clock.  She scanned the room, questioning her hope and expectations until her eyes fell on a far wall, the memory sparking excitement and curiosity.

She opened the book with apprehensive wishfulness as her fingers skimmed the pages’ edges cover to cover. Her heart fell to her feet and she put the book back on the shelf, barely noticing the small piece of paper that had fallen out.  In an instant, she snatched it from the floor, her eager fingers nearly tearing it apart. There, in _both_ of their handwritings, the words that gave the only reason for her journey.

 

_venez nous rencontrer sous les étoiles sur la terrasse_

 

_***_

The dinner could not have gone fast enough.  Ceres fidgeted with her fork for the duration of the evening, her thoughts buried in seeing her two lovers.  Her foot stopped its incessant tapping over her crossed leg as she realized her words. _Lovers_ ?   _Was it official?  What would make them so?_

The Heelshires droned onward, questioning her future plans, her studies, her new friends.  She was certain that the following evening would prove to be an exact mirror of this one, though her invitation at the Greenwoods would at least be fresher scenery.  She was fond of the doll, but it was only a reminder of why it existed in the first place; the thought made her ill as she watched Mrs. Heelshire dabbing the corner of its mouth with his linen napkin.  Somehow her time away from the tragic dysfunction of the mansion made her realize the magnitude of the horrid circumstances that burned beyond its walls.

“I suppose we’ll retire, then.  Brahms has so enjoyed your company today.  Thank you for entertaining him with your kind presence.  He did miss you so.”

Mrs. Heelshire rose from the sitting room sofa, the doll clutched to her chest.  Ceres stepped towards it and placed a kiss on its porcelain cheek.

“Goodnight, sweet Brahms.”

Mrs. Heelshire beamed proudly as she gazed at the doll’s face.

“There.  Isn’t that a sweet kiss for a good boy?”

She turned to leave the room and paused before looking back at Ceres.

“We will be leaving quite early in the morning for our trip, so we likely will not see each other again until our return.

“Please do enjoy yourself and make use of whatever accouterments that you desire, should you find that you didn’t pack something.

“Goodnight, dear.”

Ceres’s heart could not have pounded faster at the thought of rushing up to the terrace.  Her stomach churned nervously and for a moment she feared that she would lose her dinner. She perched anxiously on the sofa’s edge listening to the Heelshires’ creaks and quiet thumps from up above.  When she could no longer hear any sounds, she crept to the hidden passage behind the fireplace and began her ascent.

As she stepped out onto the terrace, a blast of cool air greeted her.  She was astonished that she had never before ventured to the top of the mansion.  She had known its whereabouts from her navigations through the walls, but had always wondered why their adventures never took them to the rooftop.  The thought excited her even more, compounded with her near frantic anticipation.

 

She jumped at the breathing next to her and whirled around to face a heaving chest.  She quickly looked up to see Brahms looming over her, his expression somehow distant and removed.  It was as if she was meeting him for the first time. _Had she been gone that long?_

They continued to face each other, her eyes searching and bewildered as she stared back at his almost lifeless gaze.  

“Brahms.”

His head cocked to the side, her voice prompting him out of his near catatonic state.  Ceres snaked her arms around his waist and pulled herself against him, nearly losing her balance, overwhelmed by her physical and emotional longing for him that even now, could barely be sated.

His arms remained at his side for several short, agonizing moments before they wrapped around her, pulling her deeply inside his embrace.  She kept her tight hold against his solid frame, relishing the comfort of his strong arms, moving only to look up at him. She sniffled, quickly wiping her wet nose on his now tear stained shirt.

“I’ve missed you —

“ — so much.  Oh my God, how I’ve missed you.”

From behind her, a hand gently touched her back and she turned to find Benjamin and her body nearly crumpled in Brahms’s hold.  He released her and she fell against Benjamin, now crying hysterically.

“I’m —

“ — so sorry that I left as I did.  It was horrible. I so wished that I could have been with the both of you that last night.”

Her shoulders shook with every other word as she sobbed into Benjamin’s chest.

“It’s ok, Ceres.  I was the arsehole, remember?  I’m sorry that I missed sharing a beautiful goodbye.”

He glanced at Brahms whose eyes were wet, his hand quickly moving to his face to wipe his cheek.  Having to share only a memory with Benjamin of her last night was bittersweet now that she had returned.  He would make sure that each would always have something of the other.

“You’re here now and we’re all here together.  No hard feelings, alright?”

He pulled Brahms closer until they stood huddled in a circle, their heads bowed and their shoulders quietly shaking. Long moments passed until they felt calmed by each other’s presence and strode towards the terrace wall. Ceres sat between them, wrapping herself around them as much as she could until they were all nearly on top of one another.

The stars blanketed them from above as they stared over the terrace rail gazing at different points near and far until their reflections circled back around to each other.  Their hands warmed each other as they held one another, smooth fingers caressing one another’s skin and lazily tracing circles.

Benjamin had recounted Brahms’s night terrors and the sudden trigger of his childhood memories.  They both would cry while sharing different details and each would comfort the other until solace returned.  Benjamin feared that talking about the experiences would spark another episode, yet the strain of carrying his fears began to crumble with Ceres’s presence.  He divulged all of his worries and feelings to them both, the openness creating a closure in their circle. Brahms shared his own accounts of what it felt to be plagued with the unwelcome onslaught of the insidious experience

Ceres turned to face Brahms’s side and clutched his arm gently as she looked up at him.

“It’s called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  My friend Nadine’s boyfriend is studying to be a psychologist.  I’ve actually learned so much from her just from the stories that he tells her of cases that he’s read about.

“Brahms, it’s very serious.  People with this condition must have professional help or it can be catastrophic.”

He glared suddenly at her.

“I needed medical help long before this.”

Her arms slackened around him as she absorbed his stinging words.  She began to lean back against the wall when he pulled her to him, covering her with his arms.

“I’m sorry.  I just — don’t know what I say sometimes.  It comes out when I don’t mean for it to.”

She slid her arms around his waist and buried her nose against his chest as she sat quietly for a moment.  She tilted her head up and squeezed him.

“It’s ok.  You’re hypersensitive.  It’s one of the many symptoms.

“We just wish that we could take it away from you.  If we could hurt for you, we would.”

Ceres turned to pull Benjamin towards them both until each was wrapped around the other.

“I just — adore you both —

“— so — much.”

Benjamin rested his chin on Ceres’s head and looked at Brahms.  They stared at each other quietly for several moments, contemplating her words and searching for an answer to the question of their own declaration for her that had been lingering in their minds.

Brahms bowed his head, brushing his lips to her hair and spoke gently against her ear.

“How are your studies?”

He looked back to Benjamin with a defeated expression and strained hope for what would have to perhaps wait for another time.

“It’s lovely!  Oh, it’s so lovely!”

She sat upright and stared at the stars, her face beaming.

“I have a friend that I mentioned, Nadine, and she’s just the loveliest girl that I’ve ever known.  Well, I haven’t really known very many with whom I’ve been this close, but we have more in common that I ever have with anyone.”

She glanced back at them both.

“Well, commonality doesn’t always need its place everywhere.”

“I’ve seen the most spectacular performances, especially during graduation ceremonies.  Oh, how I wish that you could hear and see it!”

Her eyes shined with tears.  The magnitude of emotions spread to them all as she recounted the joys of seeing great music come alive by worldly talents.  

“Oh, Brahms.  How I wish more than anything that you could sit in a performance of your namesake.  One day, _I_ will be that pianist on the stage and _I_ will play his music for _you_ —  the _both_ of you.”

Ceres turned around and regarded them for a moment, her eyes sparkling with joy and hope before she turned back and continued. Brahms rested his head against the wall, his hands in Benjamin’s hair as he lay draped across his legs. They each listened intently, smiling at each other at the delight in her voice .

“The graduation ceremonies are just tremendous.  They perform Pomp and Circumstance, which I’ve always loved, but this time —

“ — well, when they play it, it’s — different.”

She fell silent until Benjamin pulled on the back of her blouse.

“Different how?”

“Oh, just different.  It means something more this time.  I suppose it’s because I’m studying the likes of Elgar and his music just truly resonates with me now.”

She came more quiet and now Brahms leaned over to see her expression.

“You’re blushing!  Benjamin, our girl is blushing!

“What has you in such a state, love?”

Ceres fell back against them and into the defeat that she would now have to face as she gazed straight ahead, deflecting their stares.

“The trio playing softly in G and the trumpets and horns in F —”

She closed her eyes and sighed, her voice becoming husky.

“And then the percussions. _Oh, but the percussions._  And the quiet _tap_ from the side drum and cymbal and the _delicious_ coda —

“ — it’s just —  

“so —

“— _sexy_.”

“The specific notes played by themselves and so vulnerable against the full sound of all the instruments —  when they all come together, after each having the chance to play its own part — that is when it’s so spectacular.  It reminds me of us. Each unique note that comes out from its instrument is gorgeous; the notes can be soft and hard, loud and quiet in its own way.”

“Our very essence, that which we may sometimes recognize in ourselves and in ones whom we know very well, the thing that makes us _us_ and what we really are inside —  that is what makes up our own individual music.  Each of us has notes that are sometimes never heard or only heard by ourselves.  And it’s important to honour them, each and every single one.

“But _together_ — why, we’re a symphony!”

She turned back to them, her expression bright and earnest. Brahms and Benjamin were resting their heads on each other’s shoulders, mimicking tired, blank stares.

“And then what?”

Ceres glared at Brahms’s smirk, shoving him playfully in the gut and pushing Benjamin to the side before they tackled her, each working the other into a laughing frenzy.

“You really, really like old Elgar, then.  There shan’t be another who adores him more.”

Ceres fought back her giggling, attempting to brace herself against Benjamin’s tickling hands.

“I should think not.  I masturbated to the march in the loo!”

She heard herself say the words, hoping suddenly that she hadn't.  Benjamin’s hands stilled against her.

“You did _what_?”

Ceres covered her hands over her face as she lay in Brahms’s lap.  She decided that the quicker that she made her confession, the faster that it would be over.

“Well, yes.  You see —”

Her words muffled through her hands and Brahms neatly plucked them away from her face.  She looked up at him and Benjamin, both cowering over her and staring intently.

“ — I attended that first graduation ceremony and the orchestra was playing the first march — my favourite.  Did you know that there was a sixth, only recently discovered? It’s so terribly exciting! Oh to have heard it played live!”

Brahms grasped her moving hands as she spoke with animated gestures.

“Yes, that’s exciting indeed and I’m sure that there’s a recording of it somewhere. Please proceed with your previous topic before the train derailment.”

She sighed and continued in haste.

“I became so overwhelmed by the live instruments — just seeing the musicians play them, watching each layer unfold before my eyes and hearing the fullness and richness of the entire beautiful piece —”

She paused to stare down at her lap.

“ — how I felt began to remind me of how I feel when I am with you both.  I can’t really explain it, but it _aroused_ me so.  The lushness and sumptuous experience of being completely surrounded by what was so marvelously _written_ and _then performed_ —

“ — it just sent me over the edge.  I couldn’t stop fantasizing about being with you completely naked and it made me miss you terribly because it hasn’t happened.  I so wanted you at that moment.

“I found myself shifting uncomfortably in my seat so I left Nadine’s side and went to find a loo and proceeded to pleasure myself until I was sated.”

“Did it help?”

She looked up slowly at Brahms’s serious expression; the sincerity of his wondering eyes began to slowly lessen her own embarrassment.  Somehow sharing her private moment with them made her feel that they were present in her fantasy and recounting the experience was simply reliving it with them.

“No.”

She looked at them both, her face sullen.

“There is no replacement that will satiate my desire for you.”

Benjamin lay his head on Brahms’s thigh next to her and covered her with his arms.  They remained quiet, allowing the silence to absorb them as they each considered her words.  Brahms rested his head back against the wall, running his hands slowly through their hair. The sky had already lightened to a pale gold as the sun rose behind wisps of clouds.  The night chill gave way to the warm air that grazed against their skin.

The sound of car doors slamming jolted them and each sat upright turning towards it.

“It’s just the Heelshires leaving.”

Brahms leaned back again and pulled them each towards him.  Ceres turned her head to him and squeezed Benjamin’s arm where he was caressing her stomach.

“I’m famished.  Would you like for me to make us all some breakfast?”

Her head nearly flopped to the ground when they stood without her before quickly turning to help her up.  Brahms wrapped his arms completely around her, covering her entire face with kisses and pressing his forehead against hers.

“I believe that offering shall satiate us all for the moment.”

***

Large stacks of dirty dishes in the small sink towered over the broken eggshells that littered the counter.  A stray puddle of milk on the floor rippled each time a lazy drop fell from the overturned glass above it. It balanced precariously on the edge of the large wooden island, glops of red jelly and clotted cream now stuck to it, most of which were also smattered on the floor.  From the corner of the kitchen, a lone spatula lay on the floor next to the stove where a heavily used frying pan sat cooling.

Benjamin sprawled across the sitting room sofa, his arms and legs dangling over each side.  Ceres collapsed on the floor next to him when Brahms suddenly slapped his palm over his mouth after a loud belch.  She cackled as Benjamin spoke to the room, too full to turn his head.

“Ceres, please believe me when I tell you that Brahms wishes to convey his utmost regards to the chef, as this was the most magnificent meal that he’s ever eaten and that the finest and rarest delicacies shall never compare.”

He turned his closed eyes towards the floor.

“And he has had many a rare delicacy, albeit in a frozen form.”

She giggled, grabbing her belly and wincing.

“Indeed.  I rather enjoyed it, too.  Flapjacks are my favourite.  And eggs and bacon — with coffee, of course.”

Benjamin hollered, covering his face.

“Aaaaahhh!!! Stop it! I’m going to toss my breakfast.”

“Darling, I’m sorry!  The American students introduced me to it and I can’t stop drinking it now!”

Brahms groaned loudly and turned his body to the side towards them.

“Perhaps a mind opening should have its limits.”

“Brahmsy enjoyed it, didn’t you, my sweet boy?”

She pulled the doll laying by her side to her chest and cuddled it as she stroked its hair.  She cooed against his cheek, placing kisses across his face.

Brahms rested his cheek on his hand and pointed to her with his other.

“You’ve gone bonkers, love.  That doll will get the best of you.”

She paused against its cheek and shot Brahms a sudden look.

“But he reminds me of you.”

She stroked its hair before turning to her side to hold it against her chest.

Brahms chuckled and turned over to his back again.  From the sofa, Benjamin began to snore, one arm fallen over his chest and his leg bent against the cushion.

Ceres and Brahms exchanged a smile before she rose to drape Benjamin with a blanket from the sofa, careful not to wake him as she slid it up from under his arm.  She stood over him, brushing his hair across his forehead and stared at his sleeping face, before bending to kiss him gently on his lips. She spoke in a whisper into his ear before she stood up.

_“I love you more than the most precious flower.”_

She turned around to see Brahms in the armchair, his eyes closed and head propped against his hand.  She came close and peered down to gaze at the long lashes that barely rested on his cheek, wondering to herself how he must have looked as a child.  She leaned in, gently cupping the burned side of his face before whispering quietly into his ear.

_“I love you more than the finest of porcelain.”_


	32. Ties

Ceres forced herself to stay awake, stripping off her clothes and stepping around them as she shuffled to the bathroom.  She rested her hands on the sink, yawning in the mirror as she listened to the water gushing into the tub.

She slipped her tired body into the tub; her long trip, her long night and the longer absence  had exhausted her. She closed her eyes, sighing into the steam rising from the water and wandered back to her thoughts.

She was younger than them by only a few years, but had always felt that age was an odd way of marking maturity.  She disliked birthdays and the pomp and circumstance of them. She had been to birthday parties for spoiled children who simply tossed aside one present after another only to look for the next shinier new one. She detested this mockery of a person’s very being, especially when showering someone with gifts only took away from the sanctity of life proffered by a greater source. Indeed, celebrating the gift of being alive was not something that should be embellished, but rather, earned, with humility.  

She thought about the sad irony of the birthdays that the boys may not have ever had.  In her eyes, they were both warriors, a testament to their self preservation and dignity worth far more than anything wrapped in a box.  

A surge of water funneled down the tub drain as she stepped out onto the welcoming cold tile. She dried herself off on the large, white towel, chuckling at its size being more fitting for a bed.

She peered around the door into the hallway before padding naked to her bedroom, thinking herself ridiculous for having any sense of modesty after the games that they had all played with each other. _Would they know what do if they were naked, too?  Would_ she _?_  

She decided not to dwell.  It was not her place to make assumptions when she had nothing to say for herself.  The only time in her life that she was presented an opportunity to be romantic with someone and she is given two.  It frightened and thrilled her to wonder if they knew that she was quite possibly just as inexperienced as they were.  If that was true, she couldn’t imagine ever sharing a gift so sacred.

She flopped on top of the plush bed, the soft quilt decadent underneath her smooth, bare skin.  She was extremely grateful that she was able to practically come and go as she pleased in the mansion and well aware that her lack of social stature and modest upbringing was somewhat of a form of contention to the Heelshires and their posh circle.  Her host family had barely slipped by being invited to affairs, notwithstanding their lack of snobbery.

She rolled to her side, pulling the top of the quilt around her body and curling her fingers underneath her chin.

***

“I don’t want to scare her.”

“We won’t scare her.  Just stay quiet.”

Brahms walked slowly towards Ceres’s bedroom, his hand stopping in mid reach when he realized that the door was half ajar.  He paused for an instant, his judgement of their right to enter seizing the doubt that she wouldn’t want them to.

He pushed the door gently, letting it swing slowly into the room.  From behind him, Benjamin peered over Brahms’s broad shoulders before placing a hand on his back and pushing him forward. He jerked around and mouthed for him to stand back and stay quiet before turning to face the room, his form taking on an almost predatory stance.  Before Benjamin could react, Brahms vaulted onto the bed and began bouncing up and down to try and rouse the sleeping form below him. He looked at Benjamin from across the room with a wild gleam in his eyes.

The empty bundle that Ceres had wrapped herself in nearly vaulted off the bed with his heavy leaps.  Benjamin watched, aghast, as Brahms continued to flounder. He covered his mouth at the spectacle, unable to stop the laughing that bellowed out.  That it was out of Brahms’s character to make a fool of himself in front of someone other than him was not what shocked him. It was the sight of Ceres’s naked body strolling out of the bathroom that made his face change colors.

She halted her steps and they all stood frozen, their gaping mouths giving way to sheepish expressions.  She rushed towards the bed and flew under a lone sheet, pulling it up to her nose as she spoke in a muffled voice.

_“What are you doing?”_

Brahms turned to Benjamin with exaggerated earnestness.

“It was his idea. I told him that we shouldn’t, but he was so insistent.”

Benjamin rushed towards a pillow, whacking Brahms’s head with it until he jerked it out of his hands and yanked him onto the bed with him.  Ceres peeked out from the covers wearing a sly grin.

“Have you ever seen a naked woman before?”

She looked to each of them with eyes that showed both curiosity and coyness.  

“Yes.”

Benjamin turned his head, astounded by the steadfast answer from next to him.

“I’ve studied the female form my entire life.  I’ve drawn many of them from books and paintings and appreciate the human body as a work of art.”

He bowed his head and began to fiddle with the pillow on his lap.

“Yours is no exception.”

Ceres sat up slightly, lowering the sheet to her shoulders.

“Would you agree then that the male form is a work of art?”

Brahms looked at her, his face solemn and chin high.

“I do.”

She stared back at him and glanced at Benjamin whose eyebrows seemed to have traveled up to his hairline.

“Then show me yours.”

Brahms pushed aside the pillow and stood up, his eyes never leaving her.  His hands confidently undid his trousers, letting them fall to the floor as he flung his shirt across the room.

She looked then at Benjamin who had been staring at her in an quiet attempt to gauge her sincerity and level of trust.  He followed suit and rose off the bed, taking his place next to Brahms where they both stood exposed wearing expressions mixed with vulnerable conviction.

Her eyes lowered, fixating on their very erect penises, the heat in her face rising quickly as her sheet dropped lower still.  Her arm stretched out on the bed, motioning for them to come closer. Everyone’s eyes were on each other’s faces, anxious to read one another’s thoughts.  It took several moments of silent regard of each other before the battle of surrendering to their own insecurities was at last won. The veil of pretense and mockery fell and gave way to sincerity.  They relaxed, each realizing that nothing was left to hide between them; they were at their rawest and they were sharing it together.

Ceres uncovered herself, letting the sheet fall at her side, her watchful gaze belying a warmth and tenderness for them as she yearned to be closer still.  She allowed their eyes to trace every inch of her that was visible until their bodies slowly relaxed, sinking lower into the bed as they continued to stare.

“But, where is the rest of your hair?”

Benjamin peered at her trimmed mound.  She smiled nervously, never expecting the culture differences to be the first curiosity.  She was sure that there were many more questions and was surer still that she had plenty of her own as well.

“I like it this way.  It feels quite nice.”

He stared down at himself and then at Brahms as his eyes moved upwards to the hair on his chest that he himself never quite had.

“Did it hurt?”

She smiled at Brahms, her heart swelling at the sweet unknowing that the world outside had not yet bombarded them both with.

“No.  I mean, it can.  But there are many methods to remove it.  I choose a painless one.

“I do it myself.”

She blushed at their still slightly hard erections.

“I can show you how it’s done, if you like.”

“No —

“— Yes —”

They both exchanged confused looks.  

“You would pluck your own wanker hair?”

Benjamin lifted his chin with assertiveness.

“I think that it’d be lovely; much like plucking weeds.

“But then, I know how unruly you can get, Brahmsy.”

He looked playfully at Ceres and whispered loudly.

“Sometimes, he won’t have a bath for ages, much less shave that horridness off his face that turns into what looks like a grizzly bear’s —”

He nearly tumbled off the bed from Brahms’s hard shove and pulled himself up, his face now pushed against Ceres’s legs.  He righted himself without moving far from where he landed and reached his hand out to touch her, his emotions now swirling madly.

His eyes never left where his hand ventured as he began to drink in what he could touch.  The softness of her skin and the way that her body felt in his hand was overpowering. From the corner of his eye, he saw Brahms lean forward to join him, his own hand tentatively exploring next to his.

Ceres felt a rush inside her, the feelings and emotions nearly drowning her.  Seeing her two naked lovers touching her, _touching a female_ , _for the first time_ was the most erotic and sensual experience of her life.  She assumed that she was not too far removed from their own lack of experience; she never having lain with a man and hardly knowing a thing somehow thrilled her.  She didn’t _want_ that knowledge.  She wouldn’t have wanted to bring _anything_ to this moment that she didn’t already know.  She just wanted _this_ with _them_.

Benjamin reached up to her belly, spending several moments touching her skin with his palm and enjoying the softness.  He shifted slightly and lay down, cradling his head against her warmth and closing his eyes as the rest of his senses continued to explore.

Brahms seemed intent on staring at every dip, curve and juncture that made up her entire form.  The back of his fingers swept across the length of her legs until he would turn his hand over, absorbing her skin in slower, deeper measures with his palm.  He looked up at last, finding her eyes closed and head tilted back against the pillow.

“May I draw you?”

She merely nodded, her voice shaky when she breathed her answer.

“Not now.”

He traced the outline of her feet, delicately caressing her toes until she began to giggle and Benjamin’s head started to bounce on her belly making her giggle more.  It seemed to break the spell that they were all under and they both quieted, looking to her for direction.

She reached out to Benjamin, enjoying the soft, fine strands of his hair against her skin as she glided her fingers through them.  She raised her eyes and regarded them both with a gentle gaze, relinquishing any insecurity or fear that may have still lingered. Benjamin lay still on her belly as his hand slid higher, his fingers slowly tracing the outline of her breast and marveling at the soft perfection against his palm.  He brushed the skin just around her nipple in soft strokes before sweeping the pad of a finger across, fascinated when it hardened against his touch.

Brahms’s own hand began to push higher up her leg, delving slowly between her thighs, remembering with vivid detail what happens there when exposed to certain touches.  He delicately traced the valley until her legs began to fall apart and his hand could now wrap around the softness of her inner thigh.

_“Oh my God.”_

She whined, her shoulders pushing back into the bed as her back arched, careful not to move too far from their hands.  Benjamin stared at her face, aroused by her reactions and breathless expressions. He felt a sense of power to be able to hold her, literally, in his palm, which excited him.  He was captivated at her pleasured response to the pleasure that _he_ was feeling, too.  

Her whine grew louder as Brahms slid his fingers towards her core before her legs instinctively closed and he withdrew suddenly.  His hand patiently caressed her thighs, neither expecting nor forcing advances. He simply lingered, enjoying the full beauty before his eyes and absorbing the exquisite sight of her body.

He was familiar with maneuvering through darkness, learning so many things by touch until they became real without ever seeing them.  He had memorized how she had felt in his hand the first time and thrilled in experiencing the pleasure of their intimacy now in the light, all three of them together.

As if his unspoken intentions were heard, Ceres began to relax, giving herself in to the caresses and the warm breaths on her skin.  She was overwhelmed by the touch of their hands, of being explored, not just for her own pleasure but for theirs. A part of her wanted to push through and let herself be devoured, releasing her senses, absolutely.  

Her legs fell apart once more, trembling as she let them and wished this time that Brahms’s touch would climb higher and faster, her ache for them both unyielding.  She gasped, jerking her hips against Brahms’s fingers sliding over her folds again. _Again_ .  There was no question of what to expect and now _, now_ they were three; the circle had become whole.

The slight of his fingers expertly traced her delicate paths; dipping and sliding, circling and pressing. He could not tear himself away from her face long enough to watch the sight of her becoming so slick that his fingers slipped through their motions.  She opened her eyes slightly, raising her eyebrows only to find Brahms’s curls visible, his face hidden between her thighs and his mouth nearly _inside_ her.  He lifted his head as his eyes caught hers before slowly closing them again, his head rocking gently against her, repeating movements with his tongue that he had learned with his hand.  

Benjamin’s cock pressed deeper into the bed, his hips now grinding against it as he squeezed her hard nipples between his fingertips.  He turned towards Brahms, the sight of him tasting Ceres overpowering him with the need to touch her. He slid his hand down her belly and brushed his fingers against Brahms’s, gasping at her warm slickness.  Brahms’s fingers closed around his, guiding him along her growing wetness as her soft whines turned into loud cries.

Benjamin pressed his open mouth over her breast, moaning at the sensation of her soft skin.  He ran his tongue with deliberate slowness across her wet nipple, watching her reactions with intensity, heeding to the wanton sounds that escaped her lips.  He glanced up at her.

“Like this?”

She cried out, her voice hoarse as she clutched his hair.  Instinctively, he began to suck, slowly at first and then with a more urgent pull as his eyes rolled back behind his lids.  He let out a soft whimper as he pulled off, pressing his palm over the hardened nub before quickly latching on to her other breast.

He formed a pleasing rhythm for himself, alternating his gentle, sometimes feverish suckling on one nipple with a soft graze of his hand over the other when he switched.  His eyes never lost sight of her face, the expressions that he found so beautiful urging him on to indulge himself even more.

Ceres clutched the bed, her fingers pulling the covers towards her from both sides as she hung on, seized by the warm wetness that they had both created and by the sensations charging through her body.  She glanced down feverishly, overcome by their sucking noises and deep moans as she dissolved into pleasure. She let out a long scream, her body tensing before she unraveled completely with a strangled moan.  

She lay unmoving and dizzy with strength enough to throw an arm over Benjamin’s head where he rested on her chest.  Brahms slid himself up, falling against her side as he ran his tongue over the wetness covering his mouth. She chuckled as she caressed them, her fingers moving lazily through their hair.  She caught Benjamin’s soft, gazing eyes on her.

“Did you like that?”

She laughed and playfully pulled his hair.

"I don’t think that I have liked anything more.”

She shifted slightly to look at them and grinned as she ran her thumb across Brahms’s saturated lips.  Her hand cupped Benjamin’s face where it rested over her breast.

“Did _you_?”

They both smiled at each other, their faces beaming when they turned back to her.  She glanced at their bottoms with curiosity and whispered.

“Show me how much you liked it.”

Her hand caressed their backs and traveled down lower until they both shifted and turned over.

_“Oh.”_

She moaned at the site of their erect cocks, suddenly craving for them to experience the same bliss that she felt.  She stared intently at Brahms before her eyes wandered to Benjamin’s cock.

“Kiss him there as you kissed me.”

She watched Benjamin’s face change when Brahms climbed over and dropped himself in front of his erect cock.  He whimpered as his lips closed over the tip, holding him for a moment and tasting him slowly with his tongue before his entire cock disappeared completely into his warm, wet mouth.  

Benjamin’s hands clambered against the sheets as he panted and quickly glanced down. The sight of Brahms’s mouth around his cock made him pulse, earning a long, warm lick.  He was unable to quickly grasp which sensations were about to send him over the edge. He fell back with a loud thump against the headboard and felt Brahms growl around him, the deep voice from his throat reverberating against his balls.  

His lithe fingers skimmed over them, fondling them before gently cupping them both.  As his mouth tightened around him, he pumped with his free hand until Benjamin’s hips snapped upward and he came with a sudden cry.

Ceres watched with fervor, completely mesmerized, absorbing each motion and slight of hand with a new excitement building in her core.  Benjamin collapsed at her side, burying his face against her neck and reached out blindly for Brahms, attempting to drag him closer. Brahms placed slow, soft kisses on her belly as he moved towards them and rested his cheek against her skin.  He intertwined his hands with theirs and looked up at Benjamin as he spoke through half lidded eyes.

“Did you like that?”

The bed shook with their laughter while Ceres wondered out loud.

“Did it feel as if Brahms knew exactly where to pleasure you — because he’s a boy?”

Benjamin stayed buried against her ear nodding as he hid his smile and peeked at Brahms.  He slid lower after a moment, pushing him to his back and moaning as he pressed his lips to him.  He nudged his tongue inside and swirled it around, savoring the taste of Brahms and Ceres blending inside his mouth.  He knew without looking and reached down to grasp the hard cock pushing against his hip.

“Do you want to know what it feels like with you inside my mouth?”

Brahms growled, his neck arching back as nimble fingers began to trace his entire length.  Benjamin’s warm mouth covered him completely, licking the first drops that escaped the head of his cock.  He moved along his shaft with unhurried purpose, breathing in the taste of his skin as his fingers pressed against his balls.  He closed his eyes and moaned into the gentle suck, his fingers traveling up Brahms’s torso to caress a nipple.

Brahms’s head jerked to the side, his arm flailing out towards Ceres, gripping her hand tightly as his hips seized upwards and stilled inside Benjamin’s mouth.  She stared at his throat, watching him swallow as Brahms’s head fell hard against the pillow before turning into it, muffling his cry.

Benjamin rested his head against Brahms’s thigh as they both caught their breath before he slowly crawled back to her.  He leaned over her face, covering her mouth with his, enticing her to lick his lips and the slick that covered them. She pushed her tongue through, coating it with the warmth that had surrounded Brahms, content with the pleasure that he had felt inside Benjamin.

He fell against her at last, draping his leg around her thighs as Brahms nudged himself closer to them, his arm cradled around her completely.  They lay for long moments attempting to process their experiences, staying lost in their own hazy thoughts.

Ceres examined each of their intertwined hands, marveling at the differences in their forms and the blanketing comfort and cradling warmth against her delicate fingers.  She could see in each individual grasp an artist, a musician, a botanist and the unknown dreams held in their hands to nurture and reach together.

Brahms touched her forehead, breaking her thoughts and grinned as he rubbed the space between her eyebrows.  

“Don’t become like Benjamin and ruminate until you’re ripe with old age. You’re too lovely for that yet.”

She reached for his curls and weaved her fingers through them, pausing only to focus on his gaze.  Their eyes wandered over each other’s features, each trace of skin, each new and unique facet still yet undiscovered.

Benjamin crawled closer up to her, pressing his face against her cheek and inhaled deeply, curling his hand underneath her chin.  She turned to him until their noses touched and their eyes locked as she sighed against his lips, her forehead pressing against his before closing her eyes.  

Brahms slid his way up higher, wrapping his arm around them both and pulled them closer as he nestled against her ear.  He grunted quickly and jerked away to yank a sheet to cover them before collapsing and carefully draping his arm back around.

“We are a human knot.”

Ceres laughed quietly as Benjamin pushed closer and mumbled against her ear.

“Yes.”

She held her breath, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Is this what love is like?”

The soft breathing stopped against her neck and she suddenly questioned if she would ever be able to take another again herself.

“I mean, isn’t love about caring for someone so strongly that you don’t want anything to ever happen to the person?”

They propped up on their elbows and gazed at her wordlessly while her eyes searched theirs.  Each bent down, placing slow kisses on her face and stroking her hair. She closed her eyes, blissful at the pairs of lips taking turns on her mouth.  After a moment they pulled back and regarded her carefully.

“Does that match what you feel?”

She nodded slowly, recalling the very first moment that she had met them both and the enigmatic charisma that drew her.  Her façade, her public face fell by the wayside and she could be who she wanted to be, who she desired to be with them and only them.  The more stripped that she felt herself becoming, the closer that she wanted to be in that state with them. The outside world had no place for her beyond her talents.  

She looked at their faces, doubtless that they were both the gifts that demanded nothing of her, that placed no condition or terms.  What each felt for the other was given freely. Wholly. Root and branch. She laughed suddenly at the sudden parallel.

Brahms lowered his eyes, resting his warm hand on her chest before looking back up to her.

“We feel it, too.”

“I love you both.  I love you so completely and madly and I can't live the rest of my life without you.

“I mean, I love each of you, but when we are together, it feels so complete.  We’re like strange puzzle pieces separately, but those pieces make _such_ a beautiful whole.  I never in my wildest dreams ever thought that this would happen.

“I can’t imagine that you would ever have expected anything like this, either.”

Brahms’s gaze wandered over her face before settling on her eyes.  

“I am in love with Benjamin and I am in love with Ceres.”

Benjamin caught her gaze as he leaned against Brahms.

“I have loved you since the night your beautiful face was buried inside a book.  Each captivating moment spent with you is a fascinating story coming alive before my eyes.  I never want for that book to end. Ever.”

She blinked back the burn of her tears.

“Are you my darlings?”

They each rested their chins in their hands and grinned as they nodded.

“I love you.  I really, truly love you both.”

Brahms lifted his head to kiss her falling tears before tugging the sheet over them all and settling behind her.  He pulled himself close against her, resting his chin against her head as she nestled against Benjamin’s chest, her hands curled against him.  

As her eyes fluttered closed, Benjamin and Brahms stared at each with contentment in their eyes.  Benjamin leaned down to Ceres’s face and pulled her chin up towards him.

“Darling girl.  You are ours.”

They closed their eyes, completely intertwined with each other.  Ceres hummed at the secure feeling of their legs draped around her and the comfort of their bare skin against hers.  Brahms pressed a soft kiss against her ear as he whispered.

“My Ceres.  Our girl.”

***

As the sun began to set, the room filled with golden light, its hue bright against the walls before the colors changed, each layer reflecting on different parts of the room.  Scattered clothes, an abandoned bath towel and ball of quilt, all now hidden with the darkening space.

Ceres lay with her head underneath Brahms’s chin, her arm draped over Benjamin’s side where he slept curled against her back.  Her eyes suddenly opened as she stiffened against them both.

“What time is it? We’re going to be late!”

Brahms mumbled incoherently and pulled her back against him.

“Benjamin!  We mustn’t be late!  The Greenwoods! Don’t you remember?!”

She pried herself away and dashed to the bathroom, nearly tripping over the piles of clothes.  She turned back towards Benjamin, her nervous expression urging him to rise. Brahms curled his arm around Benjamin in a last attempt to help him forget where he was going.

Ceres returned to the bedroom, her hands fidgeting with her hair as she stood naked, scanning the room for clothes.  She strode to the wardrobe and paused in front of its open doors to survey the garments. Brahms propped himself up against the headboard wearing a smile as he watched her with his arms crossed.

“You really shouldn’t cover that work of art with a frock.”

She turned around with a hesitant smile before reaching for her clothes.

“Ah, the daffodil skirt.  Benjamin’s favourite. The blouse is lovely, too, especially when your hands play hard against the keys and your breasts are jostled slightly.  Yes, very nice, Ceres. Splendid choice, indeed.”

She picked up a discarded shirt and threw it towards him.

“Okay.  I’m ready.”

They turned to the door where Benjamin stood completely dressed wearing a large smile before his eyes widened at Ceres.  

“You’re going like that, then?”

“No, I’m not going _like that_ , you ninny.”

She walked to the dresser and stood in front of an open drawer before selecting a bra.  She faced herself in the mirror as she fastened it, glancing at Benjamin’s reflection behind her with a tiny smile on her face.  She rummaged through the drawer before pulling out a pair of panties.

“What.  Is _that_?”

Brahms’s eyes regarded the garment with large eyes as she held it up in the air for him.

“Don’t you remember?  You had to manoeuvre around them.  You did a fine job, too, my darling.  Fine, indeed.”

She giggled as Benjamin walked across the room with his head tilted to the side before taking his place next to Brahms on the edge of the bed.

“But what _is_ it?”

“It’s called a _thong_.  It’s to keep the derrière free from hideous lines.”

His eyebrows furrowed in agitation.

“But how does it work?”

She stepped into them and turned to the mirror, dipping her fingers underneath the strings to carefully adjust them and pranced around the bedroom, glancing at them sideways with a demure look.

Brahms swallowed heavily before patting an empty spot on the bed, his eyes never leaving her.  

“Come here, love.”

She turned with hesitation and walked towards them before he quickly grabbed her and held her still in front of him.  He rested his hands on her hips, his eyes wandering over her body before stopping to gaze at the fabric and trace the lines marking her flesh.  Benjamin shifted slightly, rubbing the tightness in his trousers before peering around to gaze at her bare behind and venturing his hand out to caress it.

“You’re a magnificent sight, Ceres.”

Brahms dropped his hands to look up at her, his eyes still and serene as he spoke in a small whisper.

“You are perfection.”

She leaned down, pressing a kiss on his lips before she placed Benjamin’s hand on her bottom.

“I’m so happy that my knickers amuse you so.  But I must put something over them now.”

She turned towards the wardrobe and continued to dress quickly as Benjamin slid closer to Brahms, both watching her with her fervor and intent.  Brahms’s eyes widened as she began to feverishly adjust her hair in front of the dresser.

“But, what about your pretty braid?”

“I haven’t time.  I can place it all on top.”

She turned towards him and giggled.

“Why — are you pouting?”

He shook his head as his shoulders fell.

“Allow me to braid your hair.

“Please.”

She walked towards him and paused as he lowered her onto his lap.  Benjamin rested his head on Brahms’s shoulder, watching his fingers carefully braid each meticulous strand.  Her voice was soft as his hands worked.

“Where did you learn it?”

He gently turned her head towards the center, his eyes fixed on smoothing out each piece in his hand.  Her shoulders relaxed hearing the tenderness in his voice, his warm breath against her neck making her shiver.

“I’ve lots of time on my hands with lots more time to learn.

_“There.”_

He held her in place and leaned back to survey his work.

“One strand for each of us.”

He turned to her and Benjamin and grinned.

“Is it tight enough?”

Ceres turned around on his lap, placing her arms around them both as she pressed her forehead against them.

“As long as it’s tied, we will always be tethered.”

***

The clanking of fine silver against china rang in Ceres’s ears like an untuned instrument and she had felt the same torture many times in school.  She would have given anything to hear a classmate fumbling with an uncooperative horn than to be on display as she sat with the Greenwoods.

“So have you much longer then with your studies?”

Mrs. Greenwood’s polite inquisitiveness belied her peering eyes as she placed a tiny bite into her mouth, her fork sliding from her lips as she cast a sideways glance. Ceres shifted in her seat, feeling as if she’d been thrown into a time capsule back to the previous night’s dinner with the Heelshires.

“Well, studies, yes.  I’ve a very important exam that will involve a recital before a large committee.

“I’m spending the latter part of my term with competitions.  Until then, I wish to have a head start by the time I’m finished with school.”

Benjamin leaned against Ceres, grasping her hand on her lap as he addressed Mrs. Greenwood.

“What she means to say is that she is making a name for herself on the circuit so that before she has completed school, she will be picked up by established musicians and be able to then tour with them.”

He caressed the top of her hand with his thumb and slid his fingers to her wet palm, squeezing it reassuringly until he felt her relax next to him.  Her expression softened with a slight smile as she glanced back at him.

“Well, yes.  I suppose that Benjamin’s correct.  I do have _some_ plans after school.  I always have felt it important to have a goal.  I certainly wouldn’t want all of that hard work to go wasted if I have nothing to show for it in the end.”

Mrs. Greenwood stared with a bemused look on her face as she lifted her goblet towards her lips.

“One can never prepare enough.”

Benjamin shielded the dessert tray as it was lowered towards them.

“Oh.  No, thank you.  I’ve a surprise for Ceres at the Heelshires.”

Mr. Greenwood’s eyebrows raised.

“Oh?  I dare say, Margaret certainly seems to be running a bed and breakfast when local celebrities pass through town.”

Ceres and Benjamin stared at the expressionless laughter on their faces as Mrs. Greenwood leaned back in her chair, her arm outstretched to a morsel of dessert from the passing tray behind her.

***

“What is this special pudding that you have planned exactly?”

Ceres hung on to the strap above her seat, the bumpy road back to the mansion jostling her as they rode.

“And how ever did you manage to bring with us a good three days’ worth for Brahms?”

Benjamin laughed, his shoulder bumping against the door as the car rambled over a hole.

“Brahms will not take three days to eat pudding, I assure you of that.”

He snickered with a low voice, staring at the points of light against the dark gravel ahead.

“Other things may take that long to enjoy.”

She stared out of her window for a moment before tilting her head at him.

“What?”

“Here we are!”

The booming sounds of violins and horns filled the air outside the mansion as Ceres stood at the edge of the circled driveway.  She gazed up at a bright window where the music was coming from.

_“Oh my God.”_

Benjamin took her hand and led her towards the entranceway.

“Yes, sweet girl.  There will be many of those shouted.”

She stood in the threshold of the music room, unable to speak her words through the lush melodies that surrounded her.  Benjamin stepped in front of her and smiled as he watched her gulp and her eyes growing bigger. She turned to him with a tiny grin before walking into the room past him.  

Brahms sat in an armchair with his legs crossed wearing only a tie and trousers, his face buried in a book.  He glanced up at her, expressionless, before returning to his reading. She felt herself float to the sofa and sit down without taking her eyes off of him.  The record ended and he carefully marked his page, placing the book to the side before sauntering to the player.

She could barely form her words as her voice squeaked.

“We brought you pudding.”

He paused for a moment, turning halfway around to her.

“The next march?”

He shuffled the records on the cabinet and pulled one out of its sleeve.  She watched his hands carefully from across the room, her voice husky as she spoke.

“No. 1.”

“You sure?  We could play all the marches in sequential order.”

“I found the sixth.”

He turned to face her with a tiny grin.  She remained on the edge of the sofa, her voice distant and wavering as she attempted to speak with more conviction.

“The first.

“Please.”

He turned back towards the player, hiding his smile as he lowered the needle.

“Yes, love.”

Ceres’s eyes drifted closed as she fell back on the sofa with a blissful smile across her flushed face.  The opulent first march began, her elation charging through her from the interplay of lush strings, piping horns and the thunder of percussions.   Each tempo stirred up raw emotions coalescing with the abundant notes; rising and falling and rising again.

She opened her eyes and smiled at the scene that continued in front of her and the silly taunting of their ties hanging loosely over their naked chests as their bare feet moved to the classical march.  She marveled at how they both seemed so content with each other and lost to their surroundings.

She began to chuckle, covering her mouth with her hand as she hid her smile. They glanced at her with raised chins and gestures reminding her of the old guests that would frequent the mansions.  Brahms whispered in Benjamin’s ear before they looked at each other and moved towards her. He dipped Benjamin back where he paused at her lips and kissed her slowly before quickly being pulled back up.  

Her favorite music surrounded them, the sound so loud that she couldn’t hear herself  breathing. She had never expected the visual arousal; her eyes drifted towards them when their dancing slowed and she watched as their foreheads touched, their gazes falling gradually to their feet.  

Benjamin shifted to rest his head against Brahms’s shoulder.  She anticipated him kissing his neck, perhaps even behind his ear.  The sensations of what he was feeling enticed her; the reaction from Brahms more still.  She leaned across the sofa for a better view, squeezing her legs together. Ceres ached to see each of their faces; the quiet space between them filled her with a sad yearn.  Brahms stepped back slightly from Benjamin until they were both looking directly at each other. Benjamin’s fingers glided along Brahms’s upper arm and dipped into the traces of muscle while he felt Brahms’s palms rub long paths along his back.  Ceres shifted again, hungering to join them as she pressed her palms tightly against her thighs, the sweat slick against her skin.

In an instant she was between them as they turned and made room for her to come closer.   She closed her eyes and smiled against the soft hair of Brahms’s chest tickling her nose. He lifted her chin up towards him and caressed her face before placing a long kiss on her lips.  As they both pulled away to catch their breath, Benjamin wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. He pressed his forehead to hers as he rocked against her slowly and slid his arms along Brahms’s hips until they moved in unison with each other.

She groaned at their stiff cocks pushing into her from both sides. She grasped their hands suddenly and led them to the piano bench, pushing Benjamin down where she sat next to him.  She stared up at Brahms as she undid his trousers and watched his eyes widening at the sight of her slowly freeing his bare cock. Her fingers touched him gingerly as she felt his warmth in her hand and sighed at the sight of  his hot flesh in her grasp at last.

She moved closer and reached her hand around his hips where it rested against his bottom.  She stared at his cock, her fingers caressing his shaft and admiring the smoothness of the skin.  She moved closer until her mouth touched his tip, moaning as the pressure of the kiss pushed her lips apart slowly.

He whined above her, steadying himself against her shoulder as his eyes clenched shut.  His mouth fell open in a strangled moan as she wrapped her lips around him, tasting the slick escaping from his tip.  She groaned and slid lower, the close connection with him drawing her deeper. Her tongue traced every detail from the underside of his cock as she licked slowly along his length.

She circled her arms around his hips, stilling him gently as he shuddered in her mouth.  She raised her eyes up to him, his slack jaw and the panting from his open mouth urging her to begin sucking slowly.  She closed her eyes and moaned against his hardness, the tightness of his cock beckoning her to take in his release.

He bucked forward, clenching her shoulders as he cried out. Her eyes flew open in surprise at the warm sensation spilling across her tongue before she moaned and swallowed lustfully, anxious to capture his entire essence. Her arms remained around him, pulling him closer until his belly rested against her forehead.

He stroked her hair, resting his fingers against her face as she released him and pulled her up to nestle her head underneath his chin.  He squeezed her hands gently, a quiet grin spreading across his languid expression as he pressed his lips against hers.

She turned around to Benjamin, clasping his face and placed a kiss to his forehead.  She sank to her knees, sliding her palms down his arms until they rested on his thighs. Eager to explore him and eager still to taste his skin, she tried to slow her movements and relish the sweet moment of her anticipation.

He stared down at her, his eyebrows rising as she looked up at him, his searching eyes pulling her in.  He watched as she pulled his cock from his trousers and gazed at it, entranced by the desire in her eyes.  She held him in her hand and swiped her tongue up his rigid shaft before plunging her mouth over it, the sensation of her moan sending him backwards against the piano keys.

From behind her, she felt her head being stroked as Brahms grazed his fingers from her ears to her face.  He sat down next to Benjamin and placed a hand on his thigh as he watched her. Benjamin leaned up slightly, his mouth open for a kiss and whined against Brahms when he felt his tongue slide inside him. They both moaned from the wet sounds of Ceres’s mouth working Benjamin’s cock.  He fell back as his body arched, straining to look down at her hollowed cheeks around him as he shuddered and came.

Brahms reached down and lifted her into his arms, walking them out of the room.  She held herself against his neck and glanced back towards Benjamin still panting against the piano with his eyes closed.  

Brahms lay her down on her bed gently and watched as she began to undress.  Benjamin entered the room, his eyes still wide as he walked towards them. Ceres smiled down at their hardened cocks.

“You're certainly standing at attention.”

They exchanged a short laugh before saluting her and teasing her naked body, brushing their neckties over her breasts. She pants up at Benjamin as he slides his cock along her thigh, slowly tracing it upward.  She whimpers, clawing at his hair as his mouth hovers over a nipple.

Brahms’s knee rests gently between her legs and she whines again, letting her legs fall wide open.  Benjamin covers her mouth with his as Brahms settles against her, his cock pushing against her warm skin, eager to find the heat between her thighs.  Her hips push upward and he quickly aligns himself with her wetness in the open path that she is giving.

The tip of his cock glides around her slickness. Ceres trembles, searching Brahms’s eyes, her breathing shallow as she lifts her head slightly towards him.  Benjamin drops to her side and watches them both move into a frantic kiss as Ceres nearly cries against Brahms’s mouth.

She pulls away, her head falling back against Benjamin and shudders when Brahms pushes inside her, his breath turning into a loud gasp as the tip of his cock rests just inside her entrance.

“Oh my God, _Brahms_ .  Oh my _God_.”

His hips continue to move forward as they both draw in loud breaths and he pushes deeper, feeling his cock nearly being pulled further in.  Benjamin watches, entranced by their expressions and the communion of their bodies. Ceres encircles her legs around his back and stills underneath him as his mouth covers her lips, gliding his tongue over hers.  She moans deeply when his hips begin to move again and groans against Benjamin as his mouth grazes her ear.

Brahms spasms above them, his back arching as he cries out her name.  She wails against the last few hard thrusts when he spills inside her, biting his shoulder when he collapses.  She turns to Benjamin, her eyes lustful as she parts her mouth hungrily for a kiss. Brahms rolls to her side and she seizes the moment to climb on Benjamin, straddling herself over his cock.  He groans at the slick of Brahms’s fluid escaping from her.

He watches his cock slowly disappear inside her as she sinks down before he falls back against the pillow. Her hands press on his chest as she begins to moves her hips around him leaning back fully as she seats herself on top of him.  They are both still, their eyes closed with only the sounds of their slow panting.

She starts to bounce slightly and a whine escapes her lips.  Benjamin instinctively pushes upwards and she wails. They both begin an uneven exchange of thrusts until they find their rhythm and soon become frantic in their movements.  He reaches out and cups one of her breasts as it bounces in front of him, grazing her nipple as she rides him faster. He leans up and grasps her other in his mouth, her slick around his cock getting hotter and more wet.  He moans around her breast and gazes up at her closed eyes. The sight of her parted mouth and sweat beading on her nose makes him pulse inside her. She throws back her head and rides him harder, matching his quickening thrusts, the slapping noises of their wet skin against each other all around them. Soon she feels fingers rubbing her hardened clit and she glances down at Brahms’s hand caressing her.  The thought of all three of them so connected brings her to the edge.

_“Oh my God!”_

She cries and falls against Benjamin as he continues to slam upwards.

_“Yes! Don’t stop!”_

She screams enough to make them both obey her before falling forward, Benjamin jerking harder and grunting until she is wailing and they both come undone together.

She pulls Brahms’s arm towards them and he drapes it along her thigh, resting his head on her side.  Moments pass before Benjamin breaks the silence.

“Brahms?”

“Mmmm.”

“Have you any of those coloured pencils left?”

“Mhmm.”

“And your large drawing tablet? The one that I had to special order for its size?”

“Mhmm.”

Benjamin raised himself slightly and smiled.

“Wonderful.  We’ve not much time, then so let’s hurry.”

***

The greenhouse floor was peppered with cut leaves and stems of fresh flowers.  Brahms was sitting on a metal stool surrounded by dropped petals. His hand brushed his nose from the strong fragrance permeating air.  His other hand balanced a drawing tablet over his long legs uncomfortably folded around the short stool.

He wore an agitated look on his face as he watched Benjamin several feet away nervously flitting around the large working table.  Hundreds of flowers littered it in a rainbow of colors and sizes. Some stems remained on them, one of which was resting in Ceres’s hand where she lay with it against her cheek.  Brahms rubbed his entire face and moaned into his hand.

“That’s enough, love.  You’ve a thousand flowers already.  I can’t draw them all. Just lay them down and be done with it or we’ll lose the light outside.”

Benjamin placed the remainder of the flowers from his hand around Ceres’s body, the sound of her giggle traveling around the room as his fingers brushed her bare skin.

“It’s lucky for us all that it’s so warm in here.  How else would I lie on this awful table naked?”

Benjamin leaned in and pressed against her lips.

“How indeed?”

He moved away, letting Brahms have his canvas. He watched his hand grasp the tablet while the other began to furiously draw the outline of the elaborate arrangement of flowers adorning Ceres.

“I can’t breathe with you staring.”

Benjamin caught himself in a trance as he continued, mesmerized at Brahms’s artistry at work.  He moved back enough to be able to see the canvas come to life.

“I’m starting to cramp.  How much longer?”

Ceres stifled a yawn with a free arm and sighed as she looked to Benjamin for relief.  He glanced across at her and back again to the drawing.

“It’ll be worth it.  Just stay still.”

She moaned and shifted slightly before resuming her position.  She stared at her lovers staring at the best interpretation of her coming to life and felt honored, _flattered_ to be given such a unique opportunity.

***

Ceres rubbed her eyes and tossed the last tissue into the pile littering her apartment floor.  She carefully rolled up the drawing, taking care to avoid staining the surface. She had cried a thousand times over it and took great pains to preserve the fading colors.

“When will you finally frame that wretched thing?”

She turned to the voice and smiled wanly at her friend.

“Just go on your date already.  You don’t need to make him wait on purpose.  He is clearly smitten with you and you will have a ring in no time.”

Nadine tilted her head in a sad expression.

“And you.  Moping year after year over unrequited love.  How long will this continue, Ceres? How much hope have you left?”

Ceres sat on the piano bench trailing her fingers across a few piano keys, the drawing still in her other hand.

_I've read of queens and angels and none are the likes of you._

Brahms's voice over her shoulder echoed in her mind.  She looked up, hopeful that Nadine had heard it to, that perhaps he was here.

"Until we no longer wonder if we're dreaming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applespice, if you're there, the flashback to the greenhouse when Ceres is holding the drawing is an accidental but cool coincidence to Ali looking at Brahms's sketch of her when she's back in Denmark.
> 
> How's Dark Brahms?


	33. Bound

Ceres padded barefoot through the apartment and up the stairs to her room where she carefully placed the rolled up drawing back to its dark shelf in the closet.  She stood staring up at it for a moment before shutting the door, leaving it open by a crack.

The sunlight at the bay window overlooking the busy street made a warm spot on the pillow covered platform.  She moved pages of music aside before falling against the pillows to stare out onto the tree lined street. She closed her eyes until she could only hear a distant bus turning a corner and fading away with the sounds of cars now a quiet hum.

She caught herself mumbling and realized that she had dozed off.  She glanced down where a few notes from her music pages caught her eye.  She furrowed her brow and squeezed back tears, letting her thoughts travel once again to the last time she had touched her lovers’ skins.

***

She sat at the bench on her last night at the Heelshires, the soft warmth of the bed sheet she shared with her lovers draped around her naked body.  From the darkness behind her, they appeared quietly and sat down next to her, remaining still, listening to her play. She paused to wrap the sheet around them all, resting her head on one of their shoulders as they move in close to keep warm.

Benjamin listens to the keys striking each note as the chords seem to magically come alive. He marvels at how such an intricate instrument can create feelings to the listener.  He waits for a slow pass of her fingers, straining to hear the mechanical wires and hammers inside the piano that produce each soaring note. He whispers against her neck.

“You’re so perfect.

***

The walls of the greenhouse had smeared stains overcome by years of care and neglect.  Several plants in a far away corner sat rotting. Benjamin meandered through the maze of greenery stopping sometimes to read a tag in order to make out the plant that he was looking at.  He grumbled to himself at the disorganized state around him. From somewhere within the humid walls, a small frog began to croak.

He stood cursing at being unable to find what he was looking for and stared out amongst the disarray.  He was bewildered that so much time had passed with so little attention given to his years of work. He noticed a long neglected pot that should have died several seasons ago.  Instead, its fat root had somehow split and formed two more.

He stared in disbelief at the three tall shoots that had now sprouted up with the roots intact and strong.  It was hard to tell where one began and the other continued as they seemed to all be coming from the same source.  It was evident that they each needed the other’s root in order for all of them to survive.

He grabbed the heavy pot and hurled it across the greenhouse until he heard it smash heavily on the ground.  From a distance, several tall plants rustled from the motion flying past them. He sat down on the dirty ground until no sounds could be heard.  The frog had long since disappeared through its hiding place to the outside world.

***

Mrs. Heelshire sat alone at the kitchen table.  The kettle behind her had just been placed on the stove to boil.  She glanced nervously around the room realizing that she was spending more time making sure that she was alone than knowing if she actually was.

Her hands shook preparing her tea as she again convinced herself with false knowledge that the drink would help calm her nerves. The scalding water sizzled over the loose tea. She covered the cup and let it steep, walking over to the kitchen sink to look out of the window.

Her brows furrowed at the strong smell of smoke and she sniffed a few times to make sure that she wasn’t imagining it.  She glanced quickly at the stove before turning around to face the kitchen entrance seeing smoke beginning to bellow in through from the hallway.  

She ran screaming towards it, feeling the immediate and painfully familiar heat from a fire coming from the music room.  She gasped in horror at the grand piano burning in flames.

From within the walls, Brahms had already disappeared into the safety of the rest of the mansion far away from the dangerous smoke and fire.  He had spent a lifetime escaping danger and this was one that wouldn’t pose a threat to him.

The Heelshires had long ago ceased to venture through the walls to find him.  It was on his terms when he came and went and he didn’t care anymore if or how or when he saw them.  Nothing mattered anymore and there was certainly no risk at being caught or discovered by anyone. He had nothing left to lose anymore.  He had almost lost his friend once and this time he would make sure that wouldn’t happen again. There were some losses that he could prevent from ever happening.  He was better at staying in control now.

From outside the mansion walls, the muffled roar of sirens rang closer and closer.  Brahms shifted his position in the bed, tucking his hands under his cheek against the pillow.  He closed his eyes until the last memory of Benjamin and Ceres burned deeper still in his mind.  His secret hope was that if he remembered enough details each time, the night would be real again with nothing left to recall.

***

Brahms twitches at the messy braid brushing underneath his nose.  He holds his breath as he slides his arm slowly out from his hold on Ceres and smooths down her hair before wrapping himself around her once more.  She stirs as he sinks back into the armchair and sighs against his chest, her fingers curling tighter underneath her chin.

He feels a tickling at his feet later and peeks with one eye at Ceres on the rug below. He grins at her concentrated patience while she attempts to touch his toes again.  He shuts his eyes, fighting the urge to jerk away until she rises at last, her amusement lost. As she stands, he jumps at her, placing kisses on her face until she screams with laughter.

“That tickles!”

He watches Ceres from the darkness of her bedroom that night as she carries the doll to its bed.  He listens to her murmuring quietly into its ear. He can’t hear the words, but always understands their meaning.  He had heard the _good boy_ s enough times to know their sound; the intonation of the words had held a growing power for him.  Each moment that she spent alone with the doll was a fond extension of her own love for him. He never denied her the privilege of handling it, nor did he ever want her to stop the affectations.

His eyes follow her movements in her bedroom where he quietly.  The smell of her hair falling over his face arouses him and she leans closer, waiting for him to meet her kiss.  She stops and he presses up, eager to break the distance between their lips. He fears the loss of the doll’s spell and the inevitable break of its porcelain crutch.

He lifts his head even more, certain that she is not teasing and she only needs him to move closer.  His head leaves the pillow with ringlets of curls behind it as his neck arches back. He tries to temper the ache that is now rising in his loins where an even deeper feeling grows that one day it won’t be quelled.  

He is nearly upright in the bed and growls under his breath in frustration.  He can see the teasing glint in her eyes before she pushes him back and hesitates before covering his face with kisses.

“Why won’t you take care of me as you do the doll?”

The powerplay has activated something inside of him, an obsequiousness that he cannot quite tell is his or hers alone.  

“I don't want to take care of the doll. I want to take care of you.”

***

Brahms had given Ceres’s words extra thought, long after her departure.  Recounting the moment had become an incantation too weak to reawaken the power behind it.  

The Heelshires rarely left the mansion anymore, a detail that Brahms missed in his strategy to push them far away; that burning the piano backfired days ago was an irony not lost to him. Now he was stuck with them and the need to not feel their presence anymore burned in his chest like an ember.

He disappeared back into the walls towards his bedroom after leaving the kitchen with a sandwich.  He took a bite, huffing to himself that quelling hunger and boredom was an existence that lay on either end of dark passageways; if he wasn’t foraging for food, he was sleeping or breaking the monotony and escaping with his artwork.  He snickered at his own plight as he continued to meander in the thick darkness.

“There is a certain ORDER that one must follow and THIS is not it!”

He dropped his food at the sound of the familiar voice. He had never heard Mrs. Heelshire speak at that octave. It was unsettling at the very least.

He peeked through the slats in the walls and found her staring at nothing in the middle of the music room. Surrounding her were blackened walls, the damage from the fire traveling up to the high ceiling. She stood on blue tarp, her beige heeled shoes pressing into the hard plastic and forming indentations with each move.

As he watched her, he shifted, madness beginning to grow in him as his hands clenched at his sides. He jumped suddenly at a razor sharp pain in his toes and looked down immediately. His eyes quickly, almost instinctively adjusted to the darkness after staring at the light on the other side. He knew without looking, growling at the small hump that began to screech when he hurled it back into the darkness with his foot.

_If she wants order, I'll give it to her._


	34. Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just can't bring myself to believe that the Heelshires don't know how to punctuate their son's name in the possessive form. I corrected Rule 4 for this reason.

Brahms rarely spoke out loud anymore.  He amused himself with his thoughts which he pretended were being heard by Benjamin whom he didn’t see as often as he wished.  It wasn’t like their last separation which had started on bad terms; rather, this was more an ennui of sorts. There was simply nothing left to do. It was only natural that his own sense of humor had become somewhat macabre without Benjamin there to counterbalance him.

Having since remodeled the music room, the destroyed grand piano was replaced with a clavier.  Brahms snickered remembering the look of disdain on Mrs. Heelshire’s face when it arrived and the mockery of it being overshadowed by the large space in which it now sat. He knew the flat sounds that the instrument produced couldn't compare to the rich grand piano.  What’s more, he knew the music could never again be reproduced without Ceres. This was perhaps what he attributed Mrs. Heelshire’s strange behavior to.

He lost track of the time that came and went since Ceres had last left.  Benjamin was verbal in his certainty that she would indeed return, as she promised. She only had to create a name for herself and become successful.  Then she could whisk them away and they would all live together. Brahms would stay silent during those conversations which were more a soliloquy. Over time, Benjamin stopped talking about her altogether. Recently, he had taken to rarely speaking at all. If they saw each other, the atmosphere was awkward and morose. Brahms laughed at his own thoughts. Their days were so empty, there was no room for awkwardness. It held too much weight for the void that surrounded them and the gravity of the missing thing that haunted them both.

He couldn’t remember having difficulty passing time in the past.  Now, he was restless and all of his usual routines became meaningless.  The slightest disturbance agitated him as did Mrs. Heelshire and her obsession for normalcy since the fire had been set.  He lost track of that occurrence as well as any others. He no longer had any concept of time and found himself feeling content that way.

Brahms began to revel in hiding the doll in various places in the mansion.  It amused him to see Mrs. Heelshire roaming the halls quietly looking for it trying her best not to seem obvious that it was missing or worse, that she had misplaced it.  Worst of all was her realization that it was not her doing that the doll was missing. He tried to remember the exact moment that she understood that it was he who was playing tricks on her and not the eight year old trapped in porcelain.

He left the kitchen with food one day and had just crept back into the walls.  He stopped suddenly when he heard the sound of car wheels braking. He peered through the slats and heard Mrs. Heelshire’s heels clicking on the floor as she walked towards the kitchen’s door.  She opened it wide to a young man standing with a cardboard box of what appeared to be groceries in his arms.

They greeted each other before he came in and was told to put the box on the kitchen’s island.  He pulled off his tweed cap and held it to his chest as he regarded her.

“Thank you so much, Malcolm. It’s a pleasure to meet you finally.”

“Of course, ma’am.  I’m happy to help out any way that I can.”

He rummaged through the box and presented her with a small package.

“I’m not sure if your son has a sweet tooth, but I took it upon myself to bring some chocolates.  On the house, of course.”

Brahms watched as Mrs. Heelshire’s eyes widened with curiosity.  That she was allowing strangers into the mansion after so long without any guests was a shock.  That this particular one came bearing a gift for the doll was even queerer. He pressed his nose harder against the dusty wood.

“Why, that’s very thoughtful, Malcolm. I’m sure that an occasional indulgence won’t hurt. I’ll be sure that he gets them, provided that he’s been good, of course.

“Isn’t that right, Brahms?”

Brahms turned towards her line of sight at the doll which was perched at the end of the table.  Mrs. Heelshire must’ve set him down when she entered the kitchen. The delivery boy glanced at her as she stared at the doll’s lifeless face.  Brahms huffed quietly watching their awkward reactions.

“Well, I’ll be off then, ma’am.  Pleasure meeting your acquaintance.”

“Of course, dear.  We appreciate your — discretion with our unique situation.  We know how small towns tend to talk.”

The young man shifted and placed both hands in his back pockets as he regarded her with a neutral stare.

“I respect the privacy of all of my customers.  Yours is no exception. I’m just here to do my job.  

“Anything you need, please call.”

At that, he bowed quickly and placed his cap back on, giving a small salute to the sitting doll and left.

***

Things appeared to get more queer for Brahms when one day he heard a faint conversation between Mrs. Heelshire and a strange old woman in the sitting room.

“Well, he needs routine. Without such order, he falls out of line and becomes — _careless_.”

He could see Mrs. Heelshire’s face change as her voice almost trailed off.  He realized that of course she was referring to the piano incident. The other woman regarded the doll with apprehension where it sat across from her on Mrs. Heelshire’s lap.  She rose with a tight lipped smile on her face and mumbled in a high pitched voice before walking towards the front entrance. Brahms couldn’t make out her words but knew that he didn’t have to.  

He realized soon enough that Mrs. Heelshire wanted the company for the doll and that it was something to fill the space left by Ceres.  He didn’t realize to what lengths she would go to make the need a reality.

He slowly looked forward to what he gathered were potential nannies turning up.  He began to thrill at the prospect of a young, handsome woman arriving one day. He grew tired of the old ninnies that continued to revolve in and out of the front door.  He lost track of time and of how many interviews Mrs. Heelshire had conducted over the many months. He eventually became bored with the whole ordeal and began to not give it much thought anymore.

He awoke from a nap one afternoon to blaring opera music coming from within the mansion.  It wasn’t like the Heelshires to be loud about anything and Brahms was intrigued to find the cause of the disturbance.

He raced through the walls to the music room, peering through to the other side and finding no one there.  He crept from the darkness into the large room looking around for any movement. After lifting the needle from the record, he turned around and spotted a clipboard holding a piece of paper on the sofa. With eyebrows raised, he walked over and picked it up.  The words on the page were short and simple.

 

_RULES_

 1. No Guests

 2. Never Leave Brahms Alone

 3. Save Meals in Freezer

 4. Never Cover Brahms's Face

 5. Read a Bedtime Story

 6. Play Music Loud

 7. Clean the Traps

 8. Only Malcolm Brings Deliveries

 9. Brahms is Never to Leave

 10. Kiss Goodnight

 

Brahms made a face filled with confusion and reread the ten lines over and over hoping to find their meaning.  He didn’t know if the rules were supposed to be for the potential nanny to use or for him to abide by. He studied each one and surmised his own personal conclusions.

The first rule made sense to him with the recent antisocial behavior of the Heelshires.  He was confused with the meaning behind the second. The third rule was a ritual that hadn’t been practiced since his adolescence. The Heelshires gave up the formality of freezing his own food portions which were never enough anyway; he took to eating anything and everything that the refrigerator had to offer his voracious appetite. The fourth rule perplexed him, as well.

He snickered at the sixth, remembering Ceres’s antics and her need to hear everything at the highest possible volume.  He peered over his shoulder, then back at the clipboard, wincing at the seventh rule as he flashed back to the dreadful rat that bit his foot.  It was so far the only sensical rule. He also remembered making the traps and the hard work behind it that it took. He scoffed at the rudimentary design but smiled to himself at his initials that he carved inside the wood.  He was so proud of it at the time.

He found the eighth rule to his liking when the grocery boy began to regularly bring treats for the doll.  Brahms was quick to steal them almost as soon as they arrived, never leaving Mrs. Heelshire time to hide them. He scoffed at the ninth rule, wondering which one was never to leave. It puzzled him since he assumed that the Heelshires would wish him to be gone out of their lives for good.  He wondered now if there was an ulterior motive behind this strange plan of theirs. He raised his eyes at the last rule before placing the clipboard back on the sofa and creeping into the walls towards his room.

What awaited him now gave him some cause for alarm.  His bed was _made_ , though he had left it unkempt just before he left the room. What rattled him was what was on the bed.  He walked closer and stared down at the shiny, white porcelain mask. He stood for several moments taking in the sight of this bizarre object on his bed.  He picked it up at last and turned it over in his hands. It was slightly heavy and cold. The craftsmanship was impeccable. It reminded him of the doll.

He threw the mask on the bed, his mouth gaping as he realized the sick reality of the months’ long events.  The nanny, the rules, the mask, Brahms. _Was she out of her mind enough to try and find someone to take care of_ him _and not the doll?  What the hell was she trying to do?_

He picked the mask up again and walked over to a mirror stuck on a wooden column.  He smeared away the grime and placed the mask over his face, peering out from the empty sockets at himself.  He couldn’t see his eyebrows raise but the sight of his wide eyes behind the small holes felt strange.

His face began to perspire against the smell of craft paint.  It already felt like standing in front of a hot fire inside the mask. He surmised that it wasn’t for wearing and was clearly for display, but the dimensions were eerily perfect, as if someone had measured his own face and created a mold out of it.  

He pulled his dark curls over the mask’s forehead, framing his temples.  He gazed deep into the mirror, playing with the light and shadows to see their effects on the mask.  At last he touched his right cheek and for the first time since he was eight years old, felt smoothness.

_“Brahms.”_

He startled at the soft voice, almost dropping the mask before catching it in shaky hands.  He looked up and saw Benjamin walking towards him.

“What in bloody hell is _that_?”

Brahms looked to him with his mouth half agape unsure of the words that were supposed to come out. He could only stare down at the carved piece of porcelain in his hands.  He gripped the sides, feeling the pads of his fingers begin to perspire.

“I — I don’t really know.”

He breathed an exasperated breath and raised his eyebrows to him.

“It turned up on my bed after I came back from seeing about a loud noise in the music room.”

Benjamin closed the distance between them and pulled out a chair next to the bed.  He draped his arms over the back and listened as Brahms recounted the recent events.  When he finished, he lay back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling while Benjamin quietly spoke.

“I give my money the old lady is grooming you for a suitable bride.”

Brahms closed his eyes to the empty space above him and absorbed Benjamin’s words.

“That mask resembles the face that she could never watch fall in love and be loved.”

Brahms brushed away the tear that streamed down into his ear and turned on his side towards Benjamin.  He pulled the mask over his face and stared at his reaction.

“Sod, that’s frightening, Brahmsy.”

He kept the mask in place, getting used to the heat building up inside it.  He wondered if after all this time, his old scars would react to the change in temperature and how long he’d be able to wear the mask.  He wondered why he’d have to for any length of time at all.

He relished in taunting the new nanny that finally turned up and stayed.  Antagonizing the Heelshires up to the moment that they decided to leave on holiday was just as much worth it.  Brahms was content with the possibility of never seeing them again. That the mansion no longer held their presence was commendable on his part; that it was now occupied by a total stranger was disconcerting.  He had plenty more havoc to wreak for rectifying that.

 


End file.
